Holiday
by TBear6000
Summary: Modern AU. Tired of her stifling and restrictive existence, Elizabeth runs away for an adventure that will forever change her life. Pirates of the Caribbean meets Roman Holiday.
1. Taking Control

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I run far away.

I need to take a holiday.

Maybe it's a fall from grace.

I've got to find a new place.

I'll set off on a new chase.

A holiday.

- M. Johnson

* * *

Elizabeth Swann lounged restlessly on the small chaise pulled up snuggly alongside the open doors leading to her stateroom's balcony. Expelling a melancholy huff of air, she unfastened her delicate robe and peeled it away from her sides, letting the warm Caribbean breeze wafting through the balcony kiss the skin left bare by her silken negligee. It was a beautiful night, there was no denying. But, like every night of her life, it wasn't destined for her to enjoy.

As the lulling jazz music played softly in the background, behind her, Elizabeth heard her personal assistant, Estrella, flitting about the room, busily attending to one thing or another as the ever efficient woman did each night before seeing her off to bed. And, really, it was necessary. There were a million little details to arrange in Elizabeth's everyday life, details that Estrella dutifully organized and maintained, seeing to it that Elizabeth was where she needed to be, when she needed to be, with all the information she needed close at hand. The slightly older woman was resourceful, proficient, and thorough at seeing to her business as well as personal needs. At times she could be maddeningly inflexible about towing the family line but, all and all, she was still the closest thing to an actual friend Elizabeth had.

"A report from home, Princess," Estrella pointedly informed her, turning up the volume on the satellite radio to allow the young woman to better hear the news broadcast.

"_In Royal news_," the announcer began……

Of course it was a report from home, Elizabeth mused. No one had heard of their ameba of a nation outside of its immediate confines, yet ironically somehow its very existence managed to rule and dictate hers. The very thought made her want to scream. Instead she gently said, "Estrella, what have I told you?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Swann," Estrella automatically corrected herself.

Elizabeth hated being addressed by her official title. It made her feel more like a detached entity than a living breathing person. And that's precisely what she longed to be more than anything else: a real person with a chance to lead a real life and experience real things – things of her _own_ choosing for once. Constantly being referred to as "Princess" couldn't have made her feel more abnormal…..or more imprisoned.

She had tried to get Estrella to call her by her first name, but the breech in etiquette was too much for her. The transgression of addressing her superior as "Miss Swann" instead of "Princess" was all the farther she was willing to go.

Elizabeth nodded off the woman's apology with a slight smile, her focus drifting back to the banal reporter on the radio.

"…._After having spent a brief stopover in Brazil, tomorrow, the princess will be embarking on her much anticipated goodwill tour of the United States, beginning with a luncheon and reception in the U.S. Virgin Islands where the princess will share her thoughts and sentiments on the importance of tourism – a leading source of capital there, a trait held in common with our nation_….."

_Her_ thoughts, indeed, Elizabeth inwardly scoffed. The speech she would recite there – every speech she ever recited – was made up of her father's thoughts, the country's official thoughts. She _never _gave her own thoughts and feelings – and no one ever asked.

The broadcast continued on, oblivious of her derisive thoughts.

"_From there, it's on to Miami where the princess will commence her multicity U.S. tour_."

Elizabeth leapt up from the chaise and switched the radio off with more force than necessary, but for some reason tonight she simply couldn't bear to hear such things, to think about who she was – who she _must_ be – as it was so far divergent from who she longed to be.

If the princess was in an odd temper, her assistant failed to notice, or at the very least chose not to comment. She merely sat down in the adjacent chair, setting a large portfolio out upon the walnut coffee table before them.

Slipping a pair of petite reading glasses from the pocket of her skirt and placing them lightly upon the bridge of her nose, Estrella softly cleared her throat. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, we'll go over your itinerary for tomorrow."

"Of course I would mind," Elizabeth replied moodily, heaving a heavy sigh as she stared out at the passing landscape. "I _always_ mind," she added in a near whisper, clearly to herself.

And she did more than mind. In fact, she hated it; the measured words, the forced smiles, the carefully suppressed feelings, the feigned image of utter perfection she must project, the sheer falsity of it all.

"I know it must be difficult for you, Prin – Miss Swann – not having your father with you this trip….or the pleasure of your fiancé's company'," Estrella said flatly.

Elizabeth's eyebrow arched reflexively at her comment. James's company was amiable at best and stifling at worst, usually falling in some middle ground in between, but 'pleasure' and 'James' were not two words she would ever string together, in her thoughts or aloud. But there again was yet another time when her thoughts and feelings were not thought important enough to be consulted. The marriage had been informally arranged between her father and James long before he ever bothered to ask her for her hand. The question was superfluous anyhow, a mere courtesy to her; it was a given what the answer must be.

Still, her mind and heart screamed that it must be nice, heavenly even, to be with a man because he had captured her heart, to enjoy his softly spoken words and his kisses in the night because they made her stomach flutter and her breath still in your throat…..to marry a man because she was in love with him. But from a young age her father had cautioned her against such frivolous notions. Love was all well and good, and certainly desirable within a union. After all, he had been quite thoroughly in love with her mother. Nevertheless, marriage for love was for the masses. For their family, for _her_, marriage with love was a bonus, something to hope for but not necessarily to expect.

In the king's view, marriage to James was a fine match and his daughter had just as likely a chance of falling in love with him than with any other man – more so, really, as they were so similar in background, situation, and breeding. But Elizabeth knew what had blossomed into an enduring love between her mother and father would never be the case with herself and James. She was fond enough of him, but he would not have been her choice and, though she knew he was in love with her – or at least the her she was made to play – she did not share the same feeling for him, a fact she let on to no one – for what good what it do? – though at times she suspected Estrella knew the truth.

In fact, the woman was well aware of the princess's lack of enthusiasm for her impending nuptials and sympathized with her plight. Though Elizabeth's presence was an absolute must, as she was the most powerful tool in their diplomatic arsenal, it was Estrella herself who had convinced King Weatherby to allow his daughter to make the tour alone. Though she contrived reasons to sway the King, truthfully she considered it her own personal gift to Elizabeth. This trip to the United States would be her last hurrah before entering into a marriage of connivance for her country's sake. Yet, while Elizabeth would no doubt find some enjoyment in the sights, Estrella knew the youthful princess would find the necessary matters of state tedious, and abroad she would be allowed no more freedom than back home….which is why Estrella had arranged the dangling of the other carrot before her.

"I realize this tour may be tiresome for you, but at least we are sailing the Caribbean rather than flying to America, as was originally planned," Estrella pointed out.

Elizabeth made no comment, merely slumping back down into the chaise. This Caribbean jaunt was the one bright spot in what would be week's worth of traveling, simpering, smiling, and endlessly parroting the mantras that had been programmed into her. Still, she took a sort of offense at how it was being used to control her.

Her father recognized her restlessness and growing discontent, in her features and her comportment as of late, straying dangerously to the side of impropriety. He knew, particularly when displeased, she had a propensity for rash behavior which spilled into statement and conduct unbecoming a princess. But he was also well aware what, for the first time in her life, permitting his daughter such a venture would mean to her. For Elizabeth, sailing through Caribbean waters on their private yacht was akin to taking a pilgrimage to a kind of holy land. For whatever reason, the girl was obsessed with the ocean and all things nautical – pirates in particular – and he knew the hope of following the course of Buccaneer Such-and-Such from the stories she prized would be incentive enough to rein in her behavior.

"The Captain has been instructed to skirt the islands as close as possible to better suit you, Miss Swann," Estrella continued.

Elizabeth nodded her understanding, rising from the chaise to walk out onto the balcony – but not before being reminded to re-cinch her robe; a princess simply did _not_ stand at the open window in a revealing negligee, even at sea. It was on the tip of her tongue to make a snarky retort, but she knew she had her assistant to thank for slightly altering the ship's course, and it _did_ provide a much better landscape for sightseeing. But at the moment it all seemed rather like the delicious last meal before being lead off to one's execution.

"Now," Estrella called from inside, all business once again. "Your father wishes me to stress the importance of exercising your utmost decorum and propriety on this tour beginning with this first stop, since the nation's initial impression of you is likely to linger and, as you know, this trip – "

"Is highly necessary and pivotal to the improvement of trade relations," Elizabeth interrupted, leaning against the rail and observing the lights twinkling on the land's edge of whichever island's shore they were currently hugging. "Yes, I know."

Seeing the princess was in no mood to speak of the particulars of her schedule, Estrella tried switching tactics. "Perhaps we might discuss your manner of dress," she offered, walking off to the closet, ostensibly to retrieve some piece of clothing or another.

Elizabeth scoffed, her eyes remaining firmly glued on the not-so-distant lights from the buildings beyond, filled with the shifting shapes of people enjoying themselves and their freedom. There was a world out there just coming alive as those around her prepared to cozily bundle her off to sleep. Something within her heart filled with acute sadness that swiftly turned to anger at the thought. She wasn't a fine china doll, made to trot out when its convenience suited and tuck away high upon a shelf when not needed, a pretty ornament for all to look at and feel better knowing it was there should it be required.

Estrella stood in the balcony's doorway, holding up the outfit she sought. "Your father wishes you to wear this to the luncheon," she informed her.

Turning around, Elizabeth couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sight of the most abhorrent dress she'd ever laid eyes on. It was nothing new that she was expected to dress in lace and frills and soft colors that tested well in polls, being associated with decency, sweetness, and modesty. In all truth, she rather enjoyed dressing femininely – if comfortably – but she was not twelve years old anymore as the darling pink embroidery and ridiculous amount of bows would suggest. Surely her father must know that. Hadn't he been the one to insist she marry? And, furthermore, of all the other decisions that had been usurped from her control was she now no longer even to have an input in what she wore of all things?

She whirled away from the rail, huffing back into the room past her assistant, who immediately stepped aside to clear the princess's path. "Everything we do is so proper. I hate it," Elizabeth pouted. "Can't we simply be real?"

Estrella eyed her mistress carefully, knowing she would not like her reply, but it was the truth all the same. "Real is not meant for people like you. You live above it. It is your duty."

"And what of my dreams?" Elizabeth exasperatedly questioned, growing increasingly upset. Here she was in the Caribbean, a consolation token meant to keep her in line like a bit of candy thrown at a crying baby, but no one ever understood why she loved it so. Reading of the sea and pirates was her first glimpse of adventure and freedom, her first murky knowledge that there could be something more than her restrained, impossibly confined existence. "I dream of excitement, and wild exploits, and living by your emotions, doing something for happiness' sake, finding out all I've been missing," Elizabeth intently confided, her voice filled with emotion as she got lost in the sheer beauty of her yearnings. "I dream of a man who will know me and love for _who_ I am, not _what_ I am. Who will be honorable without needing to follow all the rules, all the time. Who….who will sweep me away – no," she corrected, her impassioned eyes widening. "_Together_ we will run away, like pirates from the stories and films I love, and we'll sail away to points unknown where he'll ravage me upon some deserted beach."

"_Miss Swann_," Estrella gasped, chastisement clear in her tone, though by now she knew enough of the princess's eccentricities than to be to thoroughly shocked at such a bold statement. "You really shouldn't say such things, and certainly not outside of this room."

Elizabeth's face fell at Estrella's response, though she supposed she should have expected it. What she did not expect were the tears that were already beginning to sting the backs of her eyes.

"Here now, come sit upon the bed while I read you tomorrow's schedule," Estella soothed, slowly patting the fluffy quilt.

Her shoulders slumping, Elizabeth silently acquiesced, sitting down upon the bed and swinging her legs beneath the open covers that Estrella quickly tucked about her. "Very good," her assistant said approvingly. "Now, once we arrive in the Islands there will be breakfast with the Ladies Auxiliary followed by……"

The timbre of Estrella's voice seemed to meld into a single monotonous drone as she recited speeches, banquets, high teas – one oppressive commitment after another – until Elizabeth's head pounded and tears blurred her vision. "STOP! STOP IT! NO MORE! _I can't take it anymore_!" she cried, hot tears beginning to spill from her eyes.

Though the look on her face was one of utter surprise, bordering on absolute shock, Estrella kept her wits about her. "Miss Swann," she said comfortingly, reaching out her hand toward the obviously distraught princess.

"Always do this, be there, say this, feel that! It is never _me_! None of it is ever _me_! Always sweetness and decency and the good of the state. I want excitement, something thrilling, and _freedom_," Elizabeth agitatedly expounded. "To be _real_, to do something purely because I want to, because I _like_ it, because it feels good!"

"Prin – princess!" Estrella called more forcibly, hoping in the harshness of her tone to shock the young woman from her frenzied outburst.

But the pounding in her head – the screaming of her heart, too long choked in repression – would not be silenced. She'd been living under too much stress, too much pressure to be something she was not, too much unhappiness, pent up depression and emotional pain for likely never having what she longed.

As the tears continued to stream down her cheeks, Elizabeth more quietly, though no less earnestly proclaimed, "I'm a _person_. I'm _not_ a princess."

"Miss Swann, please, try to control yourself."

Elizabeth continued on as if unhearing – or merely refusing to listen. "I'm a _woman_! I'm not a princess! I'm not a princess. I'm not a princess." She repeated the words over and over until her throat became raw from the effort.

Not knowing what else to do in the face of Elizabeth's hysteria, Estrella ran from the room to fetch the royal doctor who had tended to the princess since birth and always traveled with her entourage wherever they might go.

When Estrella and the doctor reentered the stateroom, Elizabeth still sat in her bed, her arms wrapped consolingly about her middle as she continued to declare to no one in particular, "I'm not a princess. Not…..No. No more."

Estrella gazed to the doctor somewhat fearfully as she hurried to her mistress's side. "Control yourself, Elizabeth," she begged.

The unexpected use of her given name, as she had always hoped for and instructed, seemed to reach beyond the haze of Elizabeth's hysteria and at last she was quiet, the tears appearing to ebb in their flow.

Reaching down deep into his medical bag and withdrawing a large bottle, the doctor quickly scanned the label, giving a cursory nod at his apparent successes, before opening the bottle and shaking out two small pills into his palm. "Here," he calmly instructed, transferring them to Elizabeth's hand. "Take these, Princess, and you will feel much better."

Her outburst, though long coming, had worn her considerably, and Elizabeth fell back on childhood training, following orders and doing what was expected of oneself without complaint. As such, she took the glass of water Estrella handed her and dutifully swallowed the pills – whatever they were – clinging to the doctor's assertion that these mysterious capsules would bring her relief from her suffering.

"That's a good girl," the kindly doctor smiled. The young princess had always been headstrong and a bit of a handful, but he truly was fond of her. "There now. Just lie back and relax and soon you'll feel as good as new."

Sniffing, Elizabeth did as she was bid, sinking back against the pillows.

"Come," the doctor subtly instructed Estrella, taking hold of her arm and beginning to lead her from the room. "We will leave her now."

Estrella followed the man to the doorway, but paused before walking through, unsure of whether she should leave her mistress in such a state, though she seemed to be all right enough now, blinking and wiping her puffy eyes. "Are you sure she will be fine on her own?"

"Yes," the doctor quietly replied. "The pills will begin to take effect soon, and she'll be fast asleep, dead to the world, within the hour." When the princess's loyal assistant still hesitated, the doctor assured her, "The pills effect will last well into the morning. She'll be fine the remainder of the night."

At length, Estrella nodded, withdrawing from the room and gently closing the door behind them.

Left alone, Elizabeth gazed about the luxurious stateroom. As she watched the shadows dancing upon the walls, made from the incoming moonlight bouncing off the sea, she began to feel embarrassed at her childish outcry. Neurotic bouts of tears were not at all her style. Nor was her uncharacteristic loss of control….But, really, perhaps she shouldn't be embarrassed at all…..No, after a moment or two, her response seemed rather fitting. Why fight for control of her emotions? She already had no control of her life.

Throwing back the covers, she rose from the bed and crossed the room to the still-open balcony, stepping outside into the warm night air. Leaning out as far as the railing would allow, Elizabeth studied the lights upon shore. They seemed so welcoming, so full of vivacity.

From the outside looking in, her life was enviable and she wouldn't begin to deny there were certain enjoyable privileges to being a royal, born with a silver spoon so to speak. But looking out, she sincerely doubted that, if they really knew the terribly lonely and isolate life she must lead, a single one of the happy people upon the shore would trade places with her if given all the world in exchange.

The demands upon her were strenuous, every minute of her days and nights was scheduled and every bit of her social life regulated, leaving little time for personal enjoyments could see even find any within the limited range of her sequestered existence.

Heaving a little sigh, Elizabeth wished more than anything that she could be an anonymous one amongst the people on shore, soaking in the liveliness and merriment. But what had Estrella said?.....It was not meant for her. But _why_ not, her heart sadly questioned. For so long, _too_ long – forever really – she had been living vicariously through television, films, books, and even the servants' romances, always looking out at life but never living it. When would it be her time to experience something real? For, all at once, she could not accept 'never' as an answer.

As her eyes locked upon the glowing lights of this near, unspecified island's shore, it suddenly became clear in her heart and mind what she must do. For the first time in her life, she was about to take control.

Pushing herself off the railing and whirling about, she strode with a purpose back into her stateroom, dropping to her knees before her armoire and hurriedly selecting an outfit.

For reasons even she could not name, tonight it was as if the weight of a lifetime's worth of restriction and forced conformity was all coming to blows, bearing down impossibly upon her until it came down to at last shoving the weight off or being crushed beneath it – and shove it off she intended to do.

Finished swiftly redressing, Elizabeth grabbed the entirety of her ready money from beneath the hidden panel in her desk drawer, shoving the wads of cash into her wallet and, having the presence of mind to toss her shoes in as well, she quickly resealed her purse. Securing its long handle over her neck, she adjusted the strap as tightly as it would go across her body so the bag rested snugly against her hip; for what she was about to do she would need her hands and arms free.

Without allowing herself the time to think too long or hard about what she was about to do, Princess Elizabeth Swann climbed atop the balcony's rail and leapt into the sea below.

In the beginning, she was energized by her choice, thrilled at the thought of her impending independence and running on sheer adrenaline. But it was not above five minutes before she began to seriously regret her decision. The shore was much farther away that it had appeared from the safety of her yacht and, though Elizabeth was a strong swimmer, having taken lessons since the age of two, she quickly began to tire. All at once, she was feeling downright strange, whether from the coolness of the water or the tug of the current she could not say. Still, she was experienced in swimming the open waters and knew how to handle the pull of the tides; that pleasure at least she had been allowed as an adolescent. But there was something more to this oddness fast overtaking her, this strange lethargic inertia that made her arms and legs feel as if they were made of lead.

Then it occurred to her increasingly fogged mind that the pills she had taken must have been more than mere vitamins or energy boosters as she'd been given in the past. In a rush, she suddenly comprehended she had swallowed sedatives, or sleeping pills of some sort, and was fast falling victim to their effects.

_Foolish, foolish girl_, her mind chided. What had she done? She would soon be too tired to fight and would find her death in the very sea she worshipped. The swift panic, the absolute terror that overtook her at the knowledge that her very life was in eminent danger spurred her on, giving her a second wind. She swam toward the lights with all her might, determined to make it to the now not-so-distant shore – or die trying.

She rode the crest of the waves as they crashed toward land, but with each stroke of her weary arms her addled mind increasingly lost sight of her goal, and abruptly it seemed to matter less and less to keep swimming; it was too hard and much easier to simply let go and give in to the sleep. Yet something innate within her fought to remain conscious, to keep moving until…..at last she saw the dock, not more than six feet before her. If she could only reach it…..

Stretching out her arm, a last lapping wave did the trick and her fingers caught hold of the metal rung of one the ladders built into the pier to aid the local swimmers who found sport in jumping off it. Bringing her left hand alongside her right, with her last vestiges of strength she climbed the ladder's slippery rungs, pulling herself from the water to flop belly down upon the wooden pier.

* * *

Aboard the royal yacht, Estrella knew the doctor could be trusted. Yet she could still not bring herself to rest until she had checked in on the princess one last time. Slowly opening her stateroom door and tiptoeing inside, she neared the bed and gasped to find it empty.

"Princess? Princess?" she called, frantically searching the room. "Princess!" she screamed, rounding every corner of the cabin. "Elizabeth!" she tried again, after a hurried sweep of the loo turned up empty. Just then, a breeze blew through the stateroom, causing the lacey curtains to flutter in the wind, drawing Estrella's attention to the balcony. That was when she caught sight of the overturned chair near the rail and knew at once what had happened.

She shouted to her lady's security team, "HURRY! QUICKLY! IN HERE!", knowing at least one of the men would be stationed closely outside the princess's door.

Within seconds, one burly man, than another – a few with their guns drawn – flooded the room, their eyes scanning for any signs of threat or malice.

"Over here!" Estrella beckoned. "The princess, she – "

"Where is she?" Gillette, the head of security, impatiently demanded.

"She's – she's gone overboard," Estrella wretchedly declared.

As soon as the words had been spoken there was a flurry of activity as the men swept out onto the balcony, Gillette hastily speaking through his Bluetooth and summoning the captain.

Estrella fell away into the background, retreating to the corner of the stateroom, when she tripped and nearly fell over the princess's robe and negligee carelessly discarded upon the ground. With a sickening feeling quickly overtaking her gut, her eyes darted to the open armoire, next to the still-lifted bottom of the desk drawer, and finally to the coffee table, where the princess's purse had last been, which now lay empty. And then she knew what she had suspected from the beginning but refused to admit to herself….or anyone else. The princess had not fallen; she had jumped.

Everyone aboard was rocked with the force of the ship quickly turning about and retracing its watery steps, but after several long minutes it seemed to no avail.

"The princess?" Gillette spat, taking the steps two at a time on his ascent to the control room. "Is there any sign of her?"

The captain hesitated, obviously not relishing the words he was about to speak. "She's….either she's eluded us or……she's drowned, sir."

* * *

Violently choking, and in the process heaving up the bit of acrid salt water she had inadvertently taken in, Elizabeth woozily pushed herself up from the wet wooden planks. She knew she couldn't stay there all night. She had to find shelter, some dry clothes, a soft, warm bed. Her mind told her this as she stumbled, one step after the next, but her body seemed not to comply……and she was so tired, so very tired. Nearing the edge of the pier, where the sand rose up to support the wooden beams, Elizabeth spied a bench just off the path of what looked like a small, primitive road, or at least a footpath.

……Yes. That would do fine. If she could just sit down a moment. Reaching the bench and doing just that, she amended her thought. No, if she could just _lie_ down a moment, she corrected, stretching out her sore and fatigued limbs. She would just close her eyes for a moment – just rest them for a small second – then she would start walking again.

And, within thirty second's time, she fell fast asleep.

* * *

AN: So here's the first chapter.....Let me know what you think. ; )


	2. A Touch Of Destiny

* * *

There is no such thing as chance;

What seems to us merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny.

- J. F. von Schiller

* * *

Smoke hung heavy in the air, all but obscuring the eccentric man across the table as he peered beneath his cup. After a beat, he smugly declared, "Five fives."

William Turner coolly sized him up, ignoring the other men at the table whose gaze glided back and forth between the two as if they were spectators at a particularly intense tennis match. Will steadfastly held his rival's eye, debating whether to up the ante or call his opponent out. He opened his mouth to speak and several of the patrons leaned forward in anticipation of his reply. "Liar," he proclaimed with a smirk, the word rolling off of his tongue.

"You've got him, boy," Gibbs declared, breaking the silence, as each man revealed his lot with only three fives in sight.

Will nodded to Gibbs, but quickly turned his attention back to the man across the table, his eyebrow rising pointedly at the hand still firmly holding the cup down over his set of dice.

"Fine," he sourly acquiesced. Those who knew Jack Sparrow best, however, could detect the note of pride in his voice. "You got me." He lifted his cup to expose his dice, nary a five amongst them, and a rip of laughter rose up from the boisterous crowd.

"I've always got you, Jack," Will ribbed. "You have a mistaken sense of infallibility. Gets you every time." To underscore his triumph he reached to the middle of the table, pushing the pile of bills to his side.

"Let's have another go at it and we'll see just how infallible I am," Jack haughtily suggested.

Ragetti's foolish laughter could be heard from the right side of the table, nearest to the door, and Jack peered in that direction, raising his hand to waft away the smoke. In the slight clearing he'd created, he saw the idiotic man and his equally ridiculous brother, Pintel, staring dumbly back at him as if they hadn't a care in the world.

"Oi! You two! Is it just me…or aren't you supposed to be on duty back at the Pearl?" Jack questioned, annoyance lacing each syllable.

"Told you he would notice," Pintel growled, elbowing Ragetti in the ribs, causing the man to grunt in pain and retaliate by smacking the back of his brother's head.

"Get back to work," Jack ordered, inclining his head toward the door, his message clear. After watching the brothers exit the bar, presumably to return to the Black Pearl – although perhaps that was too much to hope for – he swiveled his head around, calling, "Tia!"

The proprietor, who always hovered somewhere nearby, seemed to materialize on Jack's left. His eyes widened slightly, but he managed to keep from visibly starting. Having known her longer than any of the rest, he was accustomed to her peculiarity by now. "There you are," he said in perfect calmness. "Another round."

She motioned for a barmaid to fetch their drinks as the other men at the table began to collect their dice, preparing for the next match.

"Not for me," Will replied, pushing his chair back from the table, noticing that, save for the party from the Pearl, the bar was all but deserted. He guessed it was either because it was far past closing time, or they were simply the only patrons who hadn't drank themselves under by now – though, looking around the table, he noted the men were well on their way. "I think I'm going to call it a night," he said, gathering up his winnings.

"Stay, lad," Gibbs insisted, his thoughts echoed by the remaining players.

"Gentlemen," Will grinned. "I believe I've taken enough of your money for one evening."

"But we're only just gettin' started," Marty protested.

Tia Dalma smiled enigmatically, directing her unnerving attention upon Will. "There's a touch of destiny for you this night."

Before he could question her on her meaning Jeannette, one of Tia's more buxom barmaids, sidled up to Will's end of the table, a tray of drinks in her hand.

"Just what we needed," Jack smiled to her, and she began passing the rum around.

"Speak for yeself," Brown slurred, goosing the curvaceous girl on her pleasantly rounded behind.

She squealed in a pleasingly feminine way that fulfilled its intent of arousing half the men there as she turned in artificial indignation toward the offending party. "You know I don't allow that sort of thing." Turning flirtatious eyes to Will, she amended, "At least not _all_ the time." Her hips swiveled beneath her too-tight skirt as she delivered the last of the drinks. Stopping next to Will, making sure her breast brushed tantalizingly against his arm, she reached across the table to pass the rum to Gibbs.

The men watched appreciatively as she walked away, making no pretext otherwise.

"See," Marty leered, slapping Will on the arm where the young woman's breast had just massaged him. "Jeannette thinks the night is just gettin' started, too."

"That girl's been wantin' you to show her Tortuga since she first laid eyes on you," Gibbs agreed.

"Have you forgotten?" Jack chimed in, eyeing Will, ten years his junior, with a mocking gleam. "The eunuch here never takes any girls to Tortuga. Between you and me," he added in a simulated whisper, "I think he's a bit afraid of the ladies."

Will pocketed his money, quipping as he rose from the table, "You know better than that, Jack. It's because I don't need to. They're already showing me into their bedrooms before you even have the chance to set sail."

The men roared their approval, and Jack knew he had him there. Will was nothing near the womanizer Jack himself was, but he never had any trouble getting women – that is, the select times the puritan found ones he actually wanted – though he had the strangest rules where they were concerned that he clung to like life itself: never take them to Tortuga, and never bring them home. No one was ever sure if it was so he could beat a quick retreat in the morning or simply because he didn't want the added complications of bringing them into his world.

Only Jack knew the real reason, although the two never discussed it, and he certainly never mentioned it to anyone else – and why would he? Will had a great thing going for him that Jack had no intentions of spoiling. He was something of a mystery, an enigma, and women found that incredibly sexy. He was cool, seemingly detached – though not callous about his conquests, as "Captain" Jack Sparrow had a reputation for being. Will was always the gentlemen, ever charming, but there was a bit of a challenge in trying to be the girl he finally brought to Tortuga and, if they played their cards right, eventually back to his place. It would be the ultimate coup, and the first signs of worming their way into his heart.

"That may be," Jack countered, "but one of these days you're going to come across a girl who insists on you extending a little of _your_ hospitality. And, fool that you are, you'll like her enough to do just that."

Will said nothing, but gave his friend a look that clearly stated his skepticism.

"You won't have that problem with me, sweetie," Giselle offered the older man, flouncing over to his side and giggling as he hauled her into his lap.

"Tell me, lass," Jack said, lustfully, easily falling into his chosen pickup line, "have you ever been to Tortuga?"

Will shook his head, starting for the exit, but calling over his shoulder, "There'll be hell to pay with Anna in the morning."

"Hey whelp," Jack answered defensively. "Anamaria does not own me."

Will paused at the door, looking Jack squarely in the eye. "Does _she_ know that, I wonder?" he raised, with perhaps more venom than the situation called for.

Although, judging by Will's words, it should have done just the opposite, Jack's expression softened. "Don't go off mad, William."

"I'm not mad," Will argued, even though his tone was anything but happy. "What you do is your own business."

Jack was well aware he was lying. Only he knew to what extent Will was still tortured by his painful past, and he inwardly berated himself for inadvertently jabbing at the old wound. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Tia.

"Let him go," she instructed Jack, and he knew enough of her not to argue. The eerie woman crossed the room to stand beside Will. "A touch of destiny," she told him softly before he disappeared out into the night air.

Outside, Will took one last look toward the flickering tiki torches, the only light illuminating Calypso's dilapidated wooden sign. The place was kind of a dive and an eccentric one at that, though it was their favorite haunt outside of the Black Pearl, and he wondered back, not for the first time, on how he'd gotten mixed up with such motley characters. But, better or worse, they were his family – or the closest thing he had to one, particularly Jack – and he'd have words with any man who thought to cross a single one of them.

The walk back home through the city wasn't a long one, as the term 'city' could only loosely be applied to what was really no more than a collection of shops and restaurants around the marketplace and docks. It was a warm night, but not unpleasantly so. Actually, now that he thought of it, it was quite temperate for this time of year, the night lacking the oppressive, muggy humidity that was ordinarily commonplace to the season. And, underneath a clear sky dotted with the occasional star, the walk was rather enjoyable.

Once Will made it back to the Pearl, the walk was even more enjoyable still. Though he had been back on the island for more than seven years and knew its entire circumference like the back of his hand, the Black Pearl was always his favorite and coming here was the only place that felt like coming home.

He made the trek across the grounds quickly enough; he could do it in his sleep after all. Walking past the resort area and its long stretch of beach, around the Empress – where Anna was no doubt inside busily closing down, wondering where Jack was – Will finally made it to the sandy path that led past the private pier to the beach beyond, and then home.

Stifling a yawn, Will glanced at his watch to discover it was well past two-thirty. He was musing on how good his reasonably soft bed sounded when he spotted what looked like a rumpled mound of cloth stretched across the backless wooden bench at the pier's edge. He gaped curiously, his feet unconsciously carrying him closer, until he ultimately realized the mound was in fact a person. The unfortunate person shifted onto their side and Will instantly discerned from the gentle curve of the hip that the 'person' was a woman.

He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. He didn't need this, he really didn't. Though this section of the Pearl was private, its proximity to the bar meant that it wasn't unheard of for the occasional reveler to accidentally wander over – and he was in no mood to deal with one of the array of drunken college girls the Black Pearl often paid host to. Yet, as he stopped but a foot away from her, the label 'drunken college girl' was incongruent to the appearance of the woman laid out before him. She was wearing a navy blue sundress scattered with tiny white daisies and, although the dress clung to her subtle curves, its length and the cut of its bodice were much too discreet to fit that classification. No, she wasn't the typical hard-partying college girl looking for a good time. Still, whoever she was, she must be drunk. There was no other explanation for full-on unconsciousness outside on a bench at a quarter to three in the morning.

Will continued to consider her, wondering if the face currently turned away from his was as pretty as the rest of her body……The dark blonde waves of her long hair, which softly billowed with each warm breeze, certainly held promise. He was engrossed in conjuring an image of what he thought, or perhaps hoped, she looked like when she began to stir again, this time about to roll clear off her perch.

"Hey," he called, running to catch her and nudge her body back onto the bench.

Elizabeth Swann flopped over onto her stomach and, her position solid, fell still once more. From this new vantage her face was visible and Will was not disappointed with what he saw. The word 'beautiful' was an understatement. With some effort, he shook himself from his observation of her, focusing instead on the fact that she had gone back to sleep.

"Hey," he repeated more loudly.

She groaned, clearly annoyed at the interruption of her slumber.

"Miss, you – you really need to – "

Elizabeth made another half whimper, half pout before drowsily managing, "What is it?"

"You need to get up," Will told her decisively. "You need to – "

Glancing down, he discovered she'd passed out again. Slowly exhaling in defeat, he dropped to his knees beside the bench, placing his hand on her back to gently shake her. Doing so, he immediately realized why her dress clung to her; it was damp, as well as her hair. His brow furrowed at this latest realization.

"Miss," he said, shaking her more vigorously, to her moans of protestation.

Finally he resorted to swinging her legs over the side of the bench and lifting her upright into a sitting position.

Sighing copiously, without opening her eyes, Elizabeth said, "You may sit with me." Her hand, apparently attempting to motion to the spot next to her, fell heavily upon the bench.

"Thank you," he said in amusement. Her speech was thick and when she finally opened her hooded eyes to look up at him they were glassy. She was definitely on something. "But I think _you_ had better get up," he suggested instead. She, however, made no such move. "Your dress is wet. Did you fall in the water?"

"Swimming," she said, with a sweep of her arm indicating the far end of the pier.

"You were swimming?" Will asked incredulously.

"I…was….swimming," she nodded.

Her speech was still lazy and laced with sleep but less slurred, so he tried reasoning with her. "It isn't a good idea, particularly for someone in your condition….." He trailed off as she turned the full brunt of her chestnut eyes upon him. The effect was distracting. "I….I mean, the sea isn't a place for the inexperienced to go out swimming." She blinked artlessly up at him and he swallowed heavily. "It's – I mean, it's dangerous."

"The….sea?" Elizabeth repeated, confused.

"Yes, the sea."

"………The _sea_," she reiterated, the tone of her voice revealing that her hazy mind had at last grasped the definition of the word. "The sea," she said lovingly. A slow smile spread across her lips and Will felt his heart rate increase.

He absently nodded. "The sea," he confirmed.

She took a long deep breath, her eyes fixed on his. "There remained the sea, which is free to all and particularly alluring to those who feel themselves at war with humanity," she recited.

Will cocked his head to the side, drawing his eyes from hers, finding it much easier to concentrate that way. "Well dressed, well read, passed out on a pier. Who are you?"

She studied him, her sleepy gaze trailing his face before her eyes fell closed again. "I'm a woman."

Will choked back a laugh. "Yes," he answered, looking her up and down. "I can see that." She was wet and disheveled and clearly smashed out of her mind but, even in this state, she was utterly breathtakingly. "I can see that very well." The thoughts and, more pointedly, the feelings such a perusal of her body stirred within him raised a more unwelcome reflection: what if he hadn't been the one to happen upon her? What if it had been one of the lecherous males who came down in droves following after the aforementioned drunken college girls? He doubted her virtue would've remained in tact if a particularly unscrupulous one had found her in such a state.

Disgusted at the knowledge, he allowed himself to sit down next to her – which he instantly recognized was a mistake, as she slumped against him, her head falling to rest upon his shoulder.

"You know, a young woman like you really shouldn't go out drinking alone," Will told her gently, enjoying far too much the feel of her soft body pressed against his side. "You could be picked up by the police, or – " He paused, looking down at her thickly lashed eyes which had closed yet again, then dropped his gaze to her exquisitely-shaped plush lips. "Or….or worse."

Elizabeth sighed sleepily, her hot breath falling across his neck. "Sooo…_tired_," she drawled groggily.

Will lifted his shoulder, rousing her. "You have been drinking, haven't you?"

"Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for the rest. Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" she crooned, a cute little giggle following the impromptu song.

"I take that as a 'yes'."

"Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," she said once more, for good measure. "Sabatini."

Will gave her a wry glance. "It's Stevenson."

She laid her head back down against him and murmured, "Tired."

"Are you a guest here?" he asked.

Belatedly realizing the slight in his suggestion she had misquoted, her forehead crinkled and she firmly replied, "Sabatini."

"Stevenson, and are you a guest here?" Will repeated.

"Sabatini," she crossly insisted, ignoring his inquiry.

"Stevenson." As this was obviously getting him nowhere, he racked his brain for some other way of ascertaining her identity. He knew right well she was not a local, which meant she had to be staying at one of the hotels or resorts. Additionally, she appeared to be well-off; therefore she would not be boarding in town. "Are you staying here?" he enunciated slowly. A sudden thought occurring to him, he suggested instead, "Or maybe at Barbossa's?"

"Barbossa?" she questioned blearily. "What's a 'barbossa'?"

"The Endeavour," Will elucidated. "Are you staying at The Endeavour?"

Elizabeth yawned, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck. "Swimming. I was swimming," she said as she further nestled against his side.

Will's arm wove around her shoulders of its own volition. "Yes, we've been over that," he quipped. "Where have you been _sleeping_?"

She sighed heavily as if the very effort of recalling was too much for her. "Water," she said at last. "I was sleeping….on the water."

Will let out a blurt of laughter. "You're not _that_ drunk." But as he watched her eyes roll up and her lids flutter closed, he amended, "Or maybe you are."

She didn't smell of alcohol, leading him to deduce she must be stoned. Either way, judging by the looks of her, she came from money and was certainly no habitual party girl. Perhaps she'd ditched her family and gone off alone for the night to blow off steam. Or maybe she was vacationing all by herself and fell in with a bad crowd. In any case, if she stayed there much longer sooner rather than later she'd get picked up by security. Whatever actions had led to her current condition, she didn't deserve to wake up in the drunk tank. He'd seen it; it was no place for a woman like her. She would be embarrassed, mortified even, and he could only imagine what sort of a setting down she'd get from Daddy when he showed up to fetch her.

"Look, whoever you are, you can't sleep here. If you'll just tell me where you've been staying…." Glancing down, he saw she was dead to the world. "Nope, not again," he said, sliding away from her on the bench, removing himself as her human pillow and holding her up with his hands until she was able to do so herself. "Just tell me where you're staying and then you can go back to sleep."

"Water," Elizabeth mumbled. "On the water."

Clearly she was in no condition to tell him the location of her room or even who she was; he wondered if she knew herself.

This really wasn't his problem….and it would be against every one of his rule…..But he knew he couldn't live with himself if anything happened to her and he might have prevented it.

He gazed over at her thoughtfully. She seemed so helpless, so vulnerable…..so stunning. His eyes flitted down her neck to her chest following the thin line of the gold chain that disappeared into her cleavage. The dress that fitted over said cleavage seemed custom-made for her and amplified her pert breasts to great effect, thanks in part to the long strap that cut across her torso. This realization led him to notice for the first time the bag that sat against her hip. Maybe he could find some identification in it.

Will reached over and began unzipping the purse, but the action somewhat miraculously brought his sleeping beautify instantly alert and she slapped his hand away with shocking force. So much for helpless and vulnerable.

"What are you doing?" she spat, her voice half suspicion, half anger. "That's _mine_."

Will held his hands up in front of him in surrender. Whoever this woman was she was fascinating; all beauty and innocent femininity one minute and the next she'll take you down without so much as batting an eyelash. In spite of her evident ire, he couldn't help but smile. "I was just trying to see who are you, and hopefully where you're staying."

"Oh." She visually relaxed, but her tone was one of impatience when she added, "That again."

It appeared they were at an impasse. Will quickly looked around them, but there wasn't a sole to be found. He returned his attention to her, weighing his options. But, gazing into her sleepy honey-brown eyes, the decision was made.

Letting out of puff of air, Will got up from the bench and took hold of her hand. "Come on," he said, pulling her to her feet.

Elizabeth followed him two steps, then hung back slightly, asking, "Where are we going?"

"To a room," he answered. He hesitated before telling the rest, not sure of her reaction, but then he'd always been honest with women – even ones who _were_ completely wasted. "To my room."

At this she abruptly stopped, staring inquisitively at him. "To _your_ room?"

He nodded and braced himself for the yelling. Instead, her eyes slowly examined him, taking in every inch of his face and moving down to study the rest of him so thoroughly that he felt his body grow heated beneath her scrutinizing gaze, wondering if her perusal of him was nearly as pleasing as his had been of her.

Her full lips quirked upward on one side. "Marvelous."

Will's eyes danced over her face, and he determined in that moment that he must get to know her better sober…..another of his rules – that one 100% indissoluble. He returned her smile with a devastating one of his one and, adjusting her soft small hand in his, he led the way.

They still had a considerable walk ahead of them that in her inebriated condition he wasn't entirely certain she could make. But she appeared to have perked up some since their initial encounter, though her steps remained unsteady and her pace lackadaisical as they traversed the length of impeccable white sand beach off limits to the public before reaching the offset quasi-circular cluster of private cabanas, the furthest of which belonged to Will.

The layout of the cabanas meant they must pass by the pool area to access Will's home, and his grip on her hand tightened as they neared its edge; the last thing he needed was for her to fall into another body of water. Making their way through the faint winding trail of lush tropical shrubbery, they finally arrived at Will's abode. To his amazement, Elizabeth managed the stairs tolerably well and in a matter of seconds they were through the door, emerging into the great room, which was lit only by the dim tabletop lamp Will frequently left on to aid his late-night returns home.

As his drunken companion made a visual sweep of her surroundings, Will was caught by the singularity of the occasion. In all the years he'd lived here he had never brought a woman back to his home, and he wondered if he had made a mistake in doing so now. In a kind of selflessness that had always been one of his prevailing characteristics but seemed to be magnified by this particular woman, he'd only wished to help. Yet, in this case, his magnanimous feelings were in complete odds with the carefully structured rules by which he led his life. On the other hand, he was simply charitably allowing this anonymous, relatively decent looking young woman a chance to sleep off her overindulgence before safely returning to her own life. It wasn't as if they had any sort of an involvement beyond that. Then again, the longer he spent in her company the more he couldn't help wishing they did.

"Is this the front parlor?" Elizabeth ingenuously questioned, jolting Will from his contemplation.

He released a snort of laughter at the obviously unintentional insult. "This is my room, or most of it anyway." She wobbly spun around, ingesting this new information. "I'll give you the full tour in the morning," he said, amused, taking her hand back in his. "The bedroom's this way."

Will guided her down the short hallway to his bedroom, flicking on the overhead light. He had to bite back a laugh at her accompanying groan as she squinted, her heavy-lidded eyes adjusting to the bright light. When he noticed a draft coming from above, he thought of her wet clothes and reached up to tug the cord, turning off the attached fan the light switch had automatically activated.

"I don't suppose you have a chance of clothes in that bag," Will remarked, pointing to the purse she so objected to him touching.

Elizabeth stared at him blankly.

"I didn't think so."

"I'm hot," she replied, beginning to lift her skirt up over her taut, shapely thighs.

"Oh," he said, startled, averting his eyes, "you, ah, you shouldn't undress in front of me."

She gazed at him in confusion. "I don't mind. Do you?"

" 'Mind' isn't exactly the word I'd you," Will answered, his nerves in an increasing state of uproar. She let her skirt slip through her fingers, sliding back down into place, and he felt some relief in this at least.

He turned away from her to bend beside the bottom drawer of his clothes cabinet, selecting a pair of pajamas he knew would be several sizes too big for her, but at least they were warm and dry.

At her muffled cry of "Ouch", he swiveled back to face her only to find she'd attempted to remove the purse from over her body but instead got the strap's buckle caught in her sea-tangled waves.

"I can't see," Elizabeth whimpered from beneath the mask of her damp tresses.

Setting his pajamas down on the dresser, Will crossed the room to extract the errant accessory. In the process, his work-roughened hands discovered the soft silken texture of her dark golden hair. It was a heady contrast and he was shocked by the strength of his desire to run his fingers fully through the length of it.

He cleared his throat, laying the now free purse across the bed and taking several steps back from her. "There. Now," he instructed, retrieving the bundled pajamas and handing them to her, "put these on."

She looked from his clothing in her hands up to the man himself. In the back of her mind, something seemed quite odd about the situation, her alone in the bedroom of this man who was all but a stranger to her. Yet, intriguingly enough, she didn't find it the least bit off-putting, nor did she feel threatened by him. On the contrary, when he looked at her so curiously, as he was doing now, the unsettling feelings it gave her weren't unpleasant in the least. And, as the yawn currently overtaking her demonstrated, she was so very tired. It was difficult to think and even harder still to find arguments against curling up in the cozy bed behind her and sleeping for centuries. With a shrug, she unfurled the top, preparing to slip it on.

"No," he laughed, stepping to her and tugging at the strap of her dress. "Take this off first."

Her somnolent eyes met his, and she argued, "But you said not to – "

He looked away, clarifying, "The dress is still wet, and you're cold. You can't sleep in it all night. It's – it's alright to undress once I'm – "

His logic evidently seemed sound and she dropped the shirt back onto the bed, beginning to twist and contort her body into awkward, what looked to Will to be excruciatingly painful, positions in an effort to slid down the zipper at her spine.

Taking pity on her, Will was unable to help his smile as he said, "Here. Turn around."

When she happily complied, he brought the zipper down the length of back, catching his breath at the bare creamy skin beneath….and her apparent lack of undergarments. "Um….you can handle the rest."

Turning on his heel, he prepared to bolt from the bedroom and her too distracting presence. "I'm just going to go grab a drink….I'll be in the next room if you need anything."

"Wait!" Elizabeth called and he froze in the door jamb. "I'd like a drink too."

This brought the smile back to his lips. "You've had enough already. Get some sleep," he said, pointing at the bed.

Closing the door securely behind him, Will retreated to the safety of his living room sofa. He let out a long exhale of relief, turning his eyes toward the heavens. He had a beautiful, completely smashed, half-naked – perhaps fully naked by now – woman in his bedroom. The scenario would have elated Jack, but it terrified him. He couldn't decide which he found more alarming, her presence in his home or the fact that he had willingly allowed it – suggested it even.

Kicking off his boots, he slung his feet up onto the cushions, pondering his precarious situation. Maybe there was something to gain by this beguiling young woman's strange and sudden appearance into his life. Tia had said tonight held a touch of destiny for him. He never believed in her mysticism the way others did but, on this occasion, maybe she was right. Then again, he had the distinct feeling that playing the Good Samaritan was going to end up costing him a lot more than just his bed.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the long wait. I was in the hospital, but now I'm slowly mending and regular updates should resume again. Thank you all for being so patient.

AN #2: Elizabeth's first recitation was from Rafael Sabatini and her second was from Robert Louis Stevenson. So, depending on how you look at it, they were both correct.


	3. Taking A Holiday

~ **Taking A Holiday** ~

* * *

I've been roaming around, always looking down at all I see

You know that I could use somebody, someone like you.

- C. Followill

* * *

His inebriated damsel was still sleeping. Will knew because he had crept through the bedroom to use the restroom, shower, and dress exactly an hour ago. He'd felt a bit guilty entering the room, unsure of whether she was decent on the other side, but the only bathroom in the house was off the bedroom and so he'd had little choice. Thankfully she was covered in the twisted mass of his bedspread, her lone arm peeking out sheathed in his too-big pajamas, so there had been no cause to worry.

As Will now stood in his kitchen, draining the last vestiges from the coffee pot into his waiting mug, he felt remarkably pleased about how well his good deed had turned out. He would let the beautiful blonde in his bed continue sleeping it off. Then he could at last find out who she was and where she belonged, and at the very least call someone for her. With any luck, he would get to know her better while she was still on the island – at her place, of course. The thought was enough to make his pulse jump hard against his throat, especially when coupled with the memory of freeing her from her dress the night before.

He shook himself from the thought, nearly scalding his fingers with the hot coffee that splashed up from his mug. He really did have to watch himself where this mystery woman was concerned. In the few hours since they'd met, his emotions hovered somewhere between protectiveness, fascination, and outright lust, a powerful combination for someone he didn't even know.

Will busied himself with looking for his phone so he could be ready when she woke up, but damn it if he could find that thing anywhere. He would _really_ have to be careful around her. She had him flummoxed and she wasn't even conscious. Maybe he'd left it in the bedroom when he was finding clothes for her the night before. But no, he had no memory of setting it down on the dresser. In fact, he had no memory of having his Blackberry at all since he'd checked a text message at Tia's….

Realization dawned along with apprehension. In his hurried exit and near argument with Jack, he must have left it behind at Calypso. It would probably be fine – Jeannette, or Giselle, or Tia herself most likely had it set aside for him – but he couldn't take the chance; he needed it right away. Besides being his only phone, his client was supposed to be sending him specifications for the new project he was starting next week. And it housed his entire schedule and all his contact information. That ridiculously expensive little piece of technology was his lifeline. It was a somewhat depressing realization, but a true one nonetheless.

Hopefully his sleeping beauty would stay dead to the world for another half hour or so, he thought as he grabbed his keys from the table and headed out the door.

* * *

Will arrived at Calypso ten minutes later, stowing his helmet with his bike and opening the door he knew would be unlocked, though the bar would not be open again for hours.

"William," Tia greeted him without bothering to turn around.

Though he did not believe in all of her hocus pocus, he had long since given up on asking her how she did that. "Did you find my – "

She spun around, placing his Blackberry into his hand.

"Thanks," he muttered, feeling a sudden awkwardness. He didn't believe, but then again….

A Cheshire Cat grin spread on the enigmatic woman's face. "Did you find your destiny, William?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Now, I thought you'd say our destiny finds us."

She let out a rambunctious laugh. "So I would. And has yours found you yet?"

"My Blackberry found me, for which I'm eternally grateful," he replied dismissively.

"Piff, I meant the young woman you brought home with you, and ya know it."

Will's face fell. "How did you know about – "

"I don't suppose it would do any good to remind you of my abilities?"

"I don't suppose."

Tia shook her head in longsuffering frustration. "_Then_," she said, glaring disparagingly at him, "I saw you pick her up at the pier and head back toward your cabana when I brought our witty Jack home last night. Poor thing could barely walk straight."

"Who, Jack or the woman?" he quipped.

"Both. What have you done with her this morning?" Tia asked.

Will sighed. There was no point in denying what she'd seen. "I left her back home, sleeping."

"Some way to treat precious cargo. What if she wakes up while you're gone and walks right out of your life?"

The thought panicked Will far more than it should have, which made him immediately defensive. "And what makes her so much more precious than any other woman?"

"You tell me, William. You're the one who brought her back home with ya."

"I – " Will opened his mouth to begin an impassioned defense but, coming up empty, snapped it closed again. "I have to go." He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"That, or it could be the fact that she's a princess," Tia said blithely.

Will froze in the doorway, turning back around and shooting her a cynical look. "What?" he asked skeptically.

"Princess, that woman's a princess." She paused, whether for dramatic effect or to recall the name, Will couldn't be sure. "Elizabeth Swann's her name and she's as royal as they come."

"Uh-huh," he answered, unbelieving. "And how did you come to that conclusion?"

Tia smiled shrewdly, communicating that he knew exactly how she came by her information.

"No," Will laughed. "It doesn't work on me. I'm not Jack. I don't believe in crystal balls and all that nonsense."

"Do you believe in anything?" Tia retorted. Will continued to stare her down, unmoved. "All right," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "I saw her in Brazil last week when I was on assignment."

Will considered her suspiciously. Not a lot was known about Tia Dalma, even by the locals who had lived here all their lives. Purportedly she worked as a photojournalist on the side. Supposedly that was how she'd gotten the money to buy the bar. But that was long before he arrived, and no one ever did actually see her with a camera. Still, she _had_ been inexplicably absent the week before, only just resurfacing the night before last.

The story had a touch of plausibility to it, but something still didn't ring true. "And you recognized her as the same woman while you were standing outside the Empress, looking across a stretch of dimly lit sand?" Will called her bluff.

She let out a snort of unamused laughter. "Very well, then," she said, flinging open the laptop resting on the bar's edge and spinning it to face him. "Google her." Will looked unsurely from Tia down to the laptop. "Go ahead. Google her name. Or are you afraid I'm right?"

Will slid onto the barstool, his long fingers poised above the keys. "Elizabeth Swann, you said?" Tia wordlessly nodded, and he typed the name into the search box and pressed enter.

His mouth fell open at the results that instantly appeared on screen. At the top were several image results of a woman who looked exactly like the one crashed in his bed – if perhaps a little more primped and formally attired – followed by several hits on the woman in question, chief of which was a Wikipedia article that Will immediately clicked on.

His eyes quickly scanned the first paragraph, absently reading it aloud. "_Elizabeth Margaret Swann __(born 17 April 1983)__ is the youngest member of the Swann royal family and the only child of King Weatherby Swann. She is the royal princess of a small principality, the minute sovereign island city-state known as the Isle of Dolshire, located in the English Channel. Set to one day inherit the throne, Princess Swann is adored by her subjects and soon to be married to James Norrington, the Duke of Camouth._"

A linked table of contents followed, listing shortcuts to her Family, Early Life, Humanitarian Works, Personal Life, and finally References and External Links. A small picture along the left side of the screen, followed by a short listing of crucial stats and a crude map of the country, confirmed the information should he choose to doubt it.

But was it truly the same woman?.....She _looked_ like the same woman.

Will hit the back button, returning to the Google search results, and scanned the links. The second one read "_Princess Calls Her Goodwill Tour Short" _and was dated this morning, prompting Will to click on it. Skimming its contents, his eyes stopped on one particularly damning sentence: "_The Princess fell suddenly ill last night while sailing the Caribbean on the way to the U.S. Virgin Islands and has indefinitely called off the remainder of the tour until further notice."_

Could she truly be the same woman? The timing and location seemed to fit. But, if so, how had she ended up on his island? Then their conversation on the pier the night before abruptly sparked across his mind:

"_Swimming. I was swimming."_

"_Yes, we've been over that. Where have you been sleeping?"_

"_Water. I was sleeping….on the water."_

So she really had been sleeping on the water – on a royal yacht, but on the water nonetheless. But how did she……had she really jumped ship? It was almost too much to wrap his mind around. And surely she had been too drunk to make a swim of that distance…….but it _could_ explain why……

Will whipped out his Blackberry, hastily dialing a number as Tia's mouth stretched into a self-satisfied smile. "A touch of destiny," she reminded him, but he shook his head, having no time for her cryptic, supposed clairvoyance.

"The Black Pearl," a tired, feminine voice answered on the other end.

"Anna," Will replied.

Surprise registered in his voice as he had not expected her to be awake answering phones at this hour, but it was the edge of imperativeness that caught her attention.

"Will, what is it?" she asked in alarm.

"Nothing, everything's fine. Where's Pintel? Is he close by?"

"Right beside me. Why?"

"Let me talk to him."

He was being short, no pleasantries or even a polite good morning. It wasn't like Will at all. "Will, are you sure nothing's the matter?"

"_Yes_," he said, forcing himself to get a handle on his rash need for action this very moment. "I'm alright, Anna, really. I just need Pintel to check on something for me."

"Okay," she said, still sounding unconvinced as she passed off the phone.

"Pintel?"

"Will? Wot is it gots Anna so spooked?" he gruffly voiced into the phone.

"Never mind. Listen, I need you to go over to my place and stand outside the door."

"Stand outside the door?" Ragetti echoed as if Will had gone mad.

Will heard a brief scuffle over control of the phone before he regained the brothers' attention, the two having compromised and each pressed an ear to the receiver. "Yes, just stand outside the door and guard the place. Don't let anyone in….and _don't let anyone out_."

"Don't let anyone out?" Pintel asked, slowly bursting into a chorus of bawdy laughter. "Ain't through with her yet, huh?"

"No, Pintel," Ragetti corrected him. "It's Will we're talkin' bout. He don't ever bring the girls home."

"Yeah. Hey, he's right."

"Never mind," Will repeated, wondering why he bothered at all, but it was too important not to at least try. "Just do as I ask, please."

"Alright. Suit yourself."

Will heard a click and the phone went dead. He quickly pocketed it, rushing toward the door.

"And what are you going to do now that you know?" Tia asked him.

"I have no idea."

What was he going to do, he wondered, as he quickly donned his helmet and sped back to the Black Pearl. Suppose she was a princess. He'd just sent Pintel and Ragetti over to ensure she didn't escape before he got back, but what did he intend on doing with her when he returned? And did this really change anything?

What was he thinking? Of course it changed _everything_. He had hoped for an at least short-lived relationship with a beautiful young woman. He hadn't counted on a royal princess who quoted Stevenson, sang about rum, and had a body must men only dreamt of seeing in the flesh. But what difference did it make? Surely now that she'd sobered up she'd want to find a way back to her family. A princess would think his little cabana appalling….and so would her father – a _king_, much worse than simply Daddy.

Dear Lord, what had he gotten himself into? Could he be arrested? Kidnapping perhaps? But, then again, she had come home with him of her own free will, had even seemed pleased at the prospect. Maybe she wouldn't _want_ to go back……Dream on, Turner.

Pulling into a parking spot, Will cut the engine and hopped off his bike, bypassing the lobby and heading out into the courtyard, his eyes focused solely on the way ahead – until a multi-ringed hand reached out and grabbed his leather jacket, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Will, what's this I hear about you having a woman holed up in your room? Are my ears deceiving me?" Jack asked facetiously, but Will could tell he was serious.

"I can't – I don't have time to talk about this now, Jack," Will answered, shrugging of his hand.

Jack stood back, studying him more carefully. "Mate, it's me," he said after a spell. "Tell me what's going on."

Jack led a reluctant Will to a table alongside the resort's pool, which was still largely deserted at this early hour. He ordered them both some coffee and sat back as Will confided everything to him, from first encountering the young woman lying on the pier, to his repeated unsuccessful attempts to find out who she was and where she was staying, until he ultimately decided – for her safety's sake, of course – to bring her back home with him for the night.

"But why didn't you just get security?" Jack asked, perplexed.

"I didn't want her to get into trouble…..She seemed so young and innocent." Will thought of the way she'd fiercely argued with him over the correct citation and belted him one when he'd tried to touch her purse. Then his mind drifted to the way her damp dress clung to her curves and, later, the smooth bare line of her that lie beneath that zipper. "But yet, not innocent at all."

"I see," Jack grinned. "So you had her, and now you're wondering how to get rid of her. Well I must say, you are getting sloppy taking her back to _your_ bed. You've no experience at all extracting a woman from your apartment." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "And don't you have rules about this? Something about the women not getting ideas – "

"Jack, I didn't sleep with her. Nothing happened." He avoided the older man's gaze and welcomed the momentary pause in the conversation as their coffee was delivered.

When the waiter left, Jack asked him, confused, "So what's the problem?" He picked up his mug and blew into the steaming black liquid, adding, "Besides your lapse in policy? And," he went on, another thought cropping up, "if you were simply worried about her getting into trouble, why didn't you just call Anna or Cotton? They would've taken care of her without getting the police involved."

"I…." For the second time that day someone had called him on his flimsy excuse for taking her home with him – and it wasn't yet eleven o'clock. He was going to have to start admitting, if only to himself, that he had wanted to bring her back to his room, that even now he liked the thought of her sleeping in his bed. "That's – that's not the point."

"Then whot is?"

"She….may or may not be a princess," Will revealed, wincing as he prepared for Jack's reaction.

"Come again?"

"You heard me," Will sighed. From there he launched into what had happened that morning and his exchange with Tia Dalma that led to his early morning Google search, driving home the point by repeating the search on his Blackberry. "It seems farfetched, I know…… but it _does_ sort of add up. The way she acted, some of the things she said. She told me I had her permission to sit with her. Then she thought my apartment was a front parlor."

"That must have been emasculating for you," Jack jibed.

"And how I found her," Will went on, ignoring him. "I don't know. I just don't know. But, if it _is_ true, what do I do with a hot princess?"

"Well, mate, I could give you a few pointers if that's whot you mean," Jack smirked devilishly.

"Not hot hot," Will corrected. "I mean _hot_, as in stolen, wanted, on the run. If she is a princess, if she really is Elizabeth Swann, there's no way she ended up here with Daddy's consent."

"Which is hardly the point," Jack answered, his eyes alight as he hit on an apparently exciting prospect. "No one will know who she is."

"Tia did."

"Yes, well, Tia isn't exactly like everyone else."

"I don't believe she's psychic if you're going to start that again."

Jack held up his hand to silence Will. "Look, I think you're sitting on a windfall here. If she really is who Tia says she is – and there's very little doubt; Tia's always right – then you have a golden opportunity here. For whatever reason, a runaway princess has landed in your lap, no doubt disgruntled and brimming with the potential for scandal. Think of it, Will," he said, his eyes widening as he rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money. "You offer to shelter her, show her around town, give her as good of a time as you'd like," he winked. "A little side incentive, if you know what I mean," he added, leering at the onscreen picture in Will's hand. "Then you sell the juicy lil' exposé to the tabloids. There's bound to be a magazine somewhere that will eat up a story like this, even if it is just a local paper from – where did you say she was from?"

"The Isle of Dolshire."

"Never heard of it," Jack said blankly.

"It's somewhere in the Channel," Will shrugged.

"Whatever, doesn't matter. What _does_ matter is the good people of Dolsen – "

"Dolshire."

"I said it doesn't matter. They'll care what their sweet little princess is doing. _Who_ she's doing; they'll care about that even more," he gaped, alive with excitement over the kind of buzz a salacious story like that could generate.

"She's engaged," Will shot back, hating himself for the unintentional disappointment in his voice, plain to even his ears.

"Even better. I told you this was brimming with scandal."

Will shook his head dissuasively. "She hasn't done anything yet."

"Except get totally wasted, run away from dear ol' dad and the gallant groom-to-be, only to end up in your bed."

"You don't _know_ she ran away….maybe she fell. And it wasn't like that," Will said, attempting to quell his growing exasperation. "I told you nothing happened between us."

Jack's face pinched in disappointment. "You're gonna have to start telling it differently if you want to sell the story. Or, better yet, actually make it true." He eyed his friend closely. He'd known Will too long, too well to gloss over the point the younger man clearly did not want to discuss. "I find it very intriguing that, with all your rules and all the women you've known, you brought this one back to stay with you. I think it – "

"_Jack_," Will interruptedwarningly, "I'm not interested in one of your schemes. I'm sorry I even brought her up."

"You didn't. _I_ asked _you_."

"Well forget it. I'm going to go back to my – "

"Don't blow this off, William. I may have been utterly wankered last night – "

"_Every_ night," Will corrected with a sardonic grin.

"But I heard what Tia said to you," he reasoned, suddenly all seriousness. "_A touch of destiny_. This could be your break."

Will shook his head. "I don't do things like this, Jack. That's your department."

" 'ey, I'm offended," he replied, shoving a stray dreadlock back over his shoulder.

Will gave him a look that said, '_It's me you're talking to'_. "No you're not."

"Okay, I'm not. But I _do_ know you. There's enough money in this to finally boost you from private to commercial contracts. We both know that's what you've been wanting all your life."

"Yeah. But not this way." Will pushed his chair back from the table, his coffee still untouched.

"Just think about it, mate. But first you better go back and collect your could-be princess. For all we know she's run off on you and it's all a moot point."

"No, I've got Pintel and Ragetti watching the house."

"Oh, well of course, everything's all right then," Jack sarcastically rejoined.

Will laughed as he stood. "Good point. Why did you hire those two anyway?"

"I'm a sucker for a motley crew. Remember, William, if you're going to pull this off, she can't know that you know who she is."

"I'm not doing it, Jack," Will called back as he walked away, heading for home.

* * *

When Will arrived at his cabana, he discharged the two nonsensical brothers, who still had no idea why they'd been standing outside his door for an hour. Now that they were relieved of the duty, they seemed to have lost interest in the mystery altogether, and headed back toward the public area of the resort, arguing all the way.

Will slipped inside without giving them a second thought, securing the door tightly behind him and heading straight for his bedroom. Much to his relief, she was still there, sprawled out across his bed on her stomach, the bedspread scrunched down enough to reveal the top of his pajamas riding up her smooth bare back.

He tiptoed over to the bed and knelt beside her, reaching out and gingerly sweeping the mass of dark blonde waves away from her face. She made a small murmuring sound at his gentle touch and he instantly froze. When seconds passed and she made no further sound, Will released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and retrieved the Blackberry from his pocket, pulling up the picture of Princess Elizabeth Swann he'd earlier shown Jack.

Holding the screen up next to her cheek, he studied the two women. In the image, her hair was pulled back more demurely and she certainly looked worlds more formal, but it _had_ to be the same woman; there was no denying the resemblance – although he must admit he preferred the mussed, slightly rumpled woman in his bed to her perfectly coiffed counterpart. She seemed infinitely more warm and alive.

Will cleared the image from the screen and set the phone down on his night table, rising to a standing position. Quietly, hoping to catch her in a haze of half-sleep, he addressed her. "Princess?" She made no response, so he put more strength behind his voice, "Princess Swann?" She began to stir and he knew it was now or never. Soon she'd be fully awake and, in strange surroundings, fully on guard. "Princess?"

She flopped over onto her side, pulling the bedspread up as she turned. "Yes, what is it?" she muttered sleepily.

Will broke out into a smile, but found himself suddenly at a loss as to what to say next. What _did_ he plan on doing next?

"Mmm," she sighed.

The small low murmur of feminine pleasure captured Will's attention and he instantly wondered what it would be like to hear the sound from her in other contexts.

She stretched slightly and rolled over onto her back, bringing his errant mind back to the present. "I had the strangest dream, Estrella," she yawned. "I….I swam to shore and…..and….there was a man." She paused, a slow smile dancing across her lush lips. "He was _gorgeous_, warm and hard and masculine." Those full mesmerizing lips fell into pout. "But he kept asking me where I was staying….most disappointing. Then he took me back to his room. It was all so…._exciting_," she breathed, the enchanting smile back.

She turned her head on his pillow, her thickly lashed eyes fluttering open. Will could tell the very instant they focused upon him, for she visibly started, her body stiffening with alertness beneath the covers.

Elizabeth swallowed a sharp intake of breath that was embarrassingly close to a gasp. So it hadn't been a dream then. She actually _had_ jumped from the yacht and swam for the shore, for the tiny little island whose lights had captivated her so. It had been a stupid thing to do. In the cold light of day, she realized that now more than ever. She might have easily drowned, even without being under the influence of whatever sedative/sleeping pill Dr. Bonnachoven had given her. Thank God she had made it to the pier and had been found by this man before anything serious happened to her.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position, her back propped against the wooden headboard. "Where – where am I?" she softly inquired.

"My apartment, more preciously, my bedroom," he answered, regarding her with a lopsided smile.

He was startlingly handsome – enough so it nearly took her breath away – and she had a sudden flash of memory of beginning to pull her skirt up in front of him, then getting the zipper stuck and needing his help out of the dress. Her father would have a spell if he knew, but she found the recollection equal parts humiliating and exhilarating. "And I…._we_ spent the night together, here."

His smile turned bemused. "Well, I don't know that I'd put it that way exactly, but yes." He braced himself for tears or hysteria, but should have none better where she was concerned.

A wide smile broke out on her mouth and, realizing how absurd that must look to him, Elizabeth sucked her lower lip into her teeth, biting back the impulse. The action, however, merely drew Will's focus to her full, inviting mouth – which needed no additional help whatsoever in gaining his attention – and he cleared his throat and looked away.

"Fantastic," she whispered beneath her breath.

"I'm sorry?" Will said, looking back to her.

"Nothing," she answered, shaking her head almost giddily. Regardless of the awkwardness of the situation, for the first time in her life, she had managed to escape; she was actually _free_.

Will couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. It was infectious….and she was so damn beautiful it was nearly impossible to think. "I guess I should introduce myself," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Will Turner."

She took his hand, the too-long sleeves of his borrowed pajamas extending down over their joined fingers. "Elizabeth Sw – " She cut herself off abruptly and Will could all but see the gears turning in her sharp mind. "Elizabeth…..Just…Elizabeth."

"Just Elizabeth?" he repeated, amused.

"Yes," she said definitively. "Rihanna…Beyoncé….Elizabeth."

"Oh, I see. So you're an exiled pop star," he teased. "Or diva – that's what they call themselves now, isn't it?"

"No," she laughed. "Not a pop star and _definitely _not a diva."

"That wouldn't suit you, hmm?

"Not at all."

"So tell me, Just Elizabeth," Will began, "how does a woman such as yourself end up soaking wet on a pier in the dead of night, acting very much the worse for wine?"

Elizabeth's cheeks colored. "I wasn't drinking, if that's what you mean. I….I'd taken a sleeping pill." She paused, deliberating over what she should and should not tell her rescuer. "I was out sailing and I wanted to come ashore. So – so I swam to…." She trailed off, her voice losing its conviction as she realized how ridiculous the story sounded to her own ears. She would have to give him a little something more to go on if he was to believe her, like say the part about running away from her over controlling family. That at least was something he could understand.

As she was internally drafting the best explanation, she was struck with a sudden terror that her purse was gone. It was nowhere on her person and it was all she had – all of her money, her identification, her cell phone, if it still worked. Everything. A panic overwhelmed her as her eyes searched the room.

"It's right over there," Will said, pointing to the dresser, knowing instinctively what was troubling her. When Elizabeth's eyes landed on it, she instantly relaxed, her focus returning to Will as he added, "And don't worry, I haven't looked inside." He rubbed his hand with great exaggeration. "I learned my lesson last night."

Oh yes. He had tried to open her purse, no doubt looking for some identification, and she'd struck him. Heat rose in her cheeks again. "Yes, I'm sorry about that."

"Hey, it's no problem," he answered, offering her that devastating smile. "You were just protecting what's yours."

Elizabeth returned his smile, peeling back the covers and swinging her long, lean legs over the side of the bed. Rising to stand before him, she misjudged the distance and ended up much closer to him than was necessary – almost in his arms – but she made no move to exit his space.

Will didn't know what it was – her nearness, her smile, her fearlessness, or a combination of the three – but it cemented his decision and he knew in that moment what he would had been immediately attracted to her, but now he found he also genuinely liked her. There was no way he was going through with Jack's plan. Moreover, he was going to ensure no one else could either.

"So," Will said, not stepping back if she didn't. They would just see who cried uncle first. "You were out sailing, decided you wanted to go ashore, and then jumped ship, just like that."

"Well….yes," she answered, growing increasingly flustered under his concentrated gaze. She had never seen such deep, intense chocolate brown eyes. "You see, my – my family is very strict and – "

"I know who you are."

Her face blanched. "What?"

"I know who you are….Princess."

"No," she said startled, backing away from him now, but the backs of her legs hit the bed. "No, you're mistaken."

"Princess Elizabeth Swann of Dolshire," he made plain. "I have a friend who recognized you, and then I Googled you to be sure."

"You Googled me?"

Her tone was somewhere between violation and offense, and he looked away self-consciously. "Well I wanted to be sure."

"And now you are?" she asked, watching him in careful deliberation.

"Yes."

"What do you plan on doing with this knowledge?" she cautiously questioned, gauging in her mind the distance and time it would take to grab her bag and run through the door behind him.

"Nothing," Will answered simply. "I have another friend, Jack, who came up with a plan to – well, never mind. Let's just say I'm doing nothing with it."

Her manner toward him suddenly hardened. "A plan to do what?"

He sighed, averting his eyes to the far wall. "He wanted me to befriend you, pretend I didn't know who you were, then….." He faltered, not wanting to continue.

A snap of anger mixed with distrust burned in her too bright eyes as she demanded, "Then do _what_?"

Will felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He was not an exploiter and manipulator of women. He was _not_ his father. With shame evident in his voice, he confessed, "Then use that confidence to write an exposé on you I could sell to the tabloids."

Elizabeth said nothing and knew in her silence his eyes would return to hers, which they promptly did.

"I – I wasn't going to do it. Really," Will said, his voice and manner contrite.

Elizabeth studied him a long searching moment and found that he was sincere. She wondered what it meant that he would be so aghast that she thought him capable of such a thing. Was it her good opinion in particular that he sought, or any woman's – possibly any person's? It spoke volumes toward his character. "I don't much care for your friend," she said at length.

Not knowing how he should read that answer, Will persisted, somewhat alarmed, "I wouldn't even take a loan from Jack in good conscious. I could never take money that way. I would have never done that to you."

Apparently it was quite important to him what she thought. She didn't know why, but the knowledge pleased her. "I know you wouldn't."

His eyes momentarily widened in relief. "You do?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I do." Quietly, she added, "And thank you, for last night. It was stupid of me to jump off the ship that way. Anything might have happened….if it weren't for you."

If she hadn't imagined it, she thought he looked slightly embarrassed. On him, self-consciousness was charming.

"Thank you for believing me," Will reciprocated. "And, you know, I really would like to help you. Is there someone I can call, some way you can contact your….family?"

Elizabeth silently considered his offer. What _was_ she going to do now? Last night, on the yacht, she'd simply reached her breaking point and made a dash for freedom on the horizon. She hadn't thought it out this far….beyond taking the money. She could last on that for awhile……

But everyone – security, her father, James – they must all know by now that she'd run away…..Or maybe they would think she was dead. She found the thought of her grieving father painful, but oddly freeing. Yet she knew, at the same time, without a body found they would never give up the search for her. And it would be too cruel to let them believe she was dead. She couldn't do that, not forever…..but maybe for a time, just long enough to find out what it was like to truly live.

Her first twenty-six years had been cloistered and confined, and for all the people that constantly surrounded her it was an incongruously lonely and love-starved existence. She deserved an opportunity to experience life, _real life_. This was her chance and she was going to take it. She wasn't giving up her freedom just yet….maybe not at all.

"I – I'm not going back," she declared, her assurance growing by the second.

Will regarded her with unmasked surprise. "Ever?"

Her brow furrowed. "I…..I don't know." With steely determination, she reiterated, "But _not_ _yet_."

"Okay."

"I – " She paused, wondering just how honest she could be with him, then decided to go for broke. After all, here was a man who had selflessly taken her in, giving her dry clothes and seeing to her needs when he might have easily taken advantage of her instead, and even now, the next morning, ruined the plot of his dearest friend when he wanted to exploit her. Yes, she could trust Will Turner. "I have some money. I'll find a place to stay, if you'll just promise me not to tell anyone who I am."

"Yes," Will said readily. "I mean, no. I would never tell anyone. That's your secret to keep or disclose, but…." He stopped short, the idea occurring to him all at once. And the more he visualized it, the better it seemed. "You really wouldn't _have_ to go anywhere else." It was all coming together in his mind, if he could just convince her. "Jack, the friend I told you about, his idea wasn't all bad. I _could_ show you around the island, as sort of a guide. That's what you want, isn't it? Time away to enjoy yourself?"

"Yes," she conceded carefully, wondering at his seeming ability to read her mind – and her own eagerness to agree to anything he proposed. Still, whatever this strange flipping in her stomach was, it hadn't completely overruled her head. "But….why would you do that?"

The question surprised him, although it shouldn't have. It was the answer to her question he found truly alarming. He wanted her around; he wanted it badly. So much that he didn't allow himself to ponder just why he found the idea so pleasing. It was better that way: don't think, just enjoy.

"It could be fun for me too, and relaxing. I'm off work for the next week. It would be nice to do some sightseeing. I could show you all the best places. And you could stay here." Her brow rose at the suggestion and he quickly corrected, "Here, at the Black Pearl, the resort. Not here, with me. I mean….that is, there's another open cabana across the courtyard. I'm sure Jack could be convinced to let you stay for free. He owes you at least that. How much time do you get for extortion back where you're from?" he asked with a wink.

Elizabeth laughed. "From what I've heard of this Jack, much more than he'd care to serve." She indicated the room with a sweep of her eyes. "So this is a resort, then?"

"Yep," Will nodded. "The perfect place to run away. What do you say, Princess? It could be a holiday for us both." He wasn't prepared for the strength of emotion tied to her response. It was disconcerting. All the same, he counted on a 'yes', and his heart thumped heavily in his chest waiting for her answer.

Elizabeth looked Will up and down and couldn't deny she found it thrilling to be there with him. She had longed for a man who would speak softly to her, kiss her in the darkness, make her pulse race and her stomach flutter, run away with her in the night and capture her heart forever. Now, looking over at the man who'd stumbled into her life, she took a silent inventory. Soft, warm words? Check. Butterflies? Trembling madly every time she looked at him. Why not let him run away with her too and see if the rest fell into place? It was crazy of course…and impulsive…and possibly even reckless, but she was going to do it all the same – maybe _because_ it was all those things…..or maybe because she simply liked the way she felt when she was near him.

"All right," Elizabeth told him and her answer met with an immediate smile. "Will Turner, you can help me run away."

Will grinned at her. Elizabeth was headstrong, stubborn, vivacious, and absolutely tantalizing – and she was his new neighbor.

She walked away from him, mumbling something about seeing how the contents of her bag fared after a dip in the ocean and his eyes followed her, his mind marveling at the abrupt change of course his life had taken. So he was squiring around a 'hot' princess after all. Only, unlike Jack's scheme, this way there was nothing it in for him – which was the way he liked it, a selfless good deed.

Will watched as Elizabeth bent to retrieve her dress and felt an immediate stirring as he admired her gentle peaks and valleys where his pajamas hugged her body……Well, maybe not _entirely_ selfless. But who was he kidding, he chastised, shaking the thought from his mind. He wasn't a rat. He wasn't his father, and he wasn't Jack. She was a princess, an _engaged_ princess. There could never be anything between them and he might as well get that through his head right now. He'd have to keep his hands to himself and that was all there was to it.

* * *

AN: The Isle of Dolshire, Elizabeth's homeland, is a fictional country meant to loosely resemble the real Channel Islands, located between southern Great Britain and Northern France.


	4. Waking Up

~

* * *

Out of sleeping awaking.

- R. W. Emerson

* * *

Will looked up as Elizabeth emerged from his bedroom and walked toward the kitchen looking every bit as good as she had the night before in her navy blue sundress, though it was a tad wrinkled from her ill-advised dip in the ocean. He was momentarily fixated on how beautiful she was until she moved closer and he saw the frown on those pouted lips and the troubled look clouding her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, concern in his voice. Never since his mother had he been so pricked by the look of worry on a woman's face, but he bottled that thought up, determining to mull over it at a later date.

"It doesn't work," she answered, gazing drearily down at her hand, and he noticed for the first time she clutched a small object in it.

Will nodded, catching on. "Your phone." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, whether at himself or her he wasn't sure.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied somewhat defensively. "It was all I had, that….and the money." She supposed he was right. She might have died last night. In the grand scheme of things her iPhone didn't really matter. It was a shame though; it had entertained her through many a dull luncheon.

"It's for the best," he told her, opening the refrigerator and extracting the orange juice. "They could have tracked you on it."

He reached up into the cupboard to retrieve a glass, but paused as she asked, "They?"

Will hesitated, still holding the glass, at length transferring it to the counter behind him. "They – your father, your security, the secret service, anyone else who might be looking for you. If you used it, they could've narrowed down your location. That is, assuming that you still don't want to be found." He looked over at her carefully. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No," she shook her head. "I don't want them to know where I am."

"Okay then. No worries. We'll get you another one." Will smiled at her and Elizabeth felt her passing sense of loss lift. "Juice?" he asked grabbing for the carton, but she stopped him.

"I can get my own," she smiled, taking over at the task.

"A fierce independent streak. I'll make a note of that."

Elizabeth laughed and the sound warmed him from head to toe. "I'm just tired of never being allowed to do for myself, make my own decisions."

"Ah." Will looked down at her defunct iPhone, now sitting discarded next to the orange juice carton. "Its replacement won't be something so nice," he said, indicating the phone. "But at least something functional. You'll want one while you're here, in case you need anything; your cabana doesn't have a landline either. None of them do."

"You like it rustic, then?" she playfully questioned.

"Deserted," he modified. "We don't let the outside world in, only a select few." He flinched slightly at the inadvertent admission in his statement, but she seemed not to have noticed, laughing again.

"Then I _have_ come to the right place. I don't want to be bothered by them either….not for a while anyway."

"Cheers to that," he said, lifting his glass and, with a matching motion, they drank to shutting the world out.

Setting her now empty glass on the counter, Elizabeth picked at her wrinkly skirt, the bottom edge smudged with filth from where she'd drug herself up onto the pier. "Well, whatever today brings it had better bring me to some shops. This is all I have and, as you can see, it's in need of a cleaning."

Will's mind betrayed him adding, _no underwear either_, drawing up the image of the smooth bare skin beneath her zipper the night before and how much he had wanted to run his hands along it. Which brought him to a jarring conclusion: she was wearing the exact same dress this morning – with nothing on underneath it. Heat crawled up his spine at the realization.

He turned away, suddenly on edge, using the excuse of placing the juice back into the refrigerator to buy time while he regrouped. Finally he turned back, saying, "Princess – "

"Please don't call me that," she all but snapped. "I'm a person first. I am not my title."

Will was somewhat taken aback. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I thought everyone called you that."

"They do," she conceded, the edge gone. "And I _hate_ it. I've at least convinced my assistant to settle for 'Miss Swann'."

"Okay. Miss Swann, we'll – "

"No. Call me Elizabeth."

A smirk pulled at his lips. He had to admire her spirit. "Back to Just Elizabeth." She nodded. "Alright. _Elizabeth_, we'll get you whatever you need."

"Thank you," she said softly. After a beat of simply watching him, a mirroring smirk appeared on her lips as she brightly announced, "Let's go, then," heading out into the living room with Will following her. "I'm anxious to see where I've swam to." She saw Will freeze abruptly near the couch, something important apparently occurring to him.

"About the resort," he began a look of unmistakable embracement crossing his features. "I think I should explain….before you see."

She gave him an inquisitive look. "Is there something wrong with the resort?"

He would have immediately put her at ease, but the way she said the word 'wrong' was with excitement, not fear.

Intrigued, her brow rose and she edged closer, encouraging him to share the guilty secret. "Is it nudists? Or swingers? Something naughty?"

Will gaped at her in not unpleasant astonishment. She was thoroughly enjoying the possibility of there being something immoral and iniquitous about her little adventure. Evidently the princess was something of a sexual deviant. "Pirates," he flatly admitted, feeling it a shame to disappointment her and lose that high color in her cheeks, that intoxicating look in her eyes.

"Pirates?" she repeated, as if not trusting her ears.

"Yes." He sighed, hurrying on with an explanation. "I know it seems kind of strange, a bit clichéd for some people's taste, but – "

"_Pirates_?" she said again, this time with a definite tone of elation in her voice.

Will watched her as she sank down onto the couch with a little laugh. "Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"_No_. It's _fantastic_."

"You like pirates?" Will asked in surprise at her obvious thrill.

"Much to my father's despair, I've always _loved_ pirates," she enthusiastically declared.

"Huh," he said, studying Elizabeth closely. "You have a thing for pirates"

Elizabeth averted her eyes, a soft blush tinting her face. "Well, I – "

"I never would've thought it." He looked down at her, a teasing grin on his lips that made him absurdly good-looking.

"I've always admired and….and longed for their freedom." There was an unmistakable gleam in her eye as she spoke. "I find their lifestyle fascinating. Living and making choices selfishly. Doing what you want, when you want, because you want it."

His grin turned to a soft smile as he sat down beside her. "Are you a pirate, Miss Elizabeth Swann?"

Her eyes were honed to his and, despite the mad flipping of her stomach, she found it impossible to look away. "Are you?"

He found her indescribably engaging, more so than he ever imaged, and he didn't want to break the moment there were sharing – whatever it was – but he had rules; he never lied to a woman…..And unfortunately he could almost laugh at the irony of her question. How many little standards did he never let slip in an effort to protect others? His entire life was an oath to _not_ living selfishly. Although, at times, he wondered what it was like being Jack, going around blithely without this heavy weight. "No. I'm not a pirate. Far from it."

He expected to lose her interest, but instead she gave him a rueful smile. "Neither am I. But sometimes I think I'd like to be."

"Jack says there's a bit of a pirate in us all – in you, I'd suspect more than most," Will said, back to teasing.

Elizabeth laughed again, unknowingly bewitching her companion, who settled back against the cushions watching her, absorbing everything about her. "The Black Pearl. I should've guessed from the name. Jack, you – you said he owns the resort?" Will nodded. "How did he settle on pirates?"

"Well, when Jack acquired the resort there wasn't much to it, mainly just the property. Together we drew up plans on how we wanted the finished product to look, what we wanted it to be." He shrugged. "Pirates just naturally fell into line as the theme. Adventure, treasure, all that. It seemed to make sense. Jack and I have always been men of the sea. And it's popular with the tourists."

Elizabeth studied the man beside her, increasingly impressed the more she knew of him. "I can imagine it is. You've certainly got my vote. I can't wait to see it. I've always thought it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate."

Will chuckled. "Yeah, Jack's sort, I suppose."

"Oh." She instantly felt stupid. There were _in_ the Caribbean. This was real, not the stories and movies she grew up on. There might actually be pirates here, the kind with machine guns and heavy artillery – the very deadly kind. "Are there still pirates around here?"

Sensing her embarrassment, Will placed his hand warmly on Elizabeth's arm. "Probably. But I've never seen any. The ones around the Black Pearl are all of the innocuous variety." He slid his hand to her wrist – unsuspectingly leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake – and helped her off the couch. "Come on," he said, smiling at her as he lead them towards the door. "You've always wanted to meet a pirate, huh? Well you're about to meet one from the truly old school."

As soon at they walked out the door it was like stepping into paradise. Will's place, where she had spent the night, was one of a cluster of four quaint condos made to look like beach cabanas, with every detail in place, down to being built on small raised stilts, slightly off the sand, and outfitted with lovely little porches following the lengths of the buildings, which were covered with straw thatched roofs. They sat back in a sea of palms and fronds and beautiful tropical flowers, giving the area the overall air of Bali Ha'i.

A teardrop shaped pool, surrounded by abundant flourishing greenery, with a bubbling waterfall spilling down from the rocks at its head, sat in the midst, separating the pairs of cabanas. Will's was nearest to the ocean, a small secluded stretch of beach lying directly behind it, following the curve of the island's shore. The cabana across from his was empty; the one he promised would soon be hers.

On the other side of the pool, towards the island's interior, Will pointed out Jack's cabana and, across from it, the one belonging to Jack's girlfriend – though the flippant way Will said the word told Elizabeth all she needed to know about Jack's type of commitment.

As they went on, the stone walkway leading through the cabanas abruptly gave way to a narrow footpath just barely wide enough for them to walk side by side. There was nothing but a sea of tall, thriving beach grass on the one side and a sizable length of sand on the other, the ocean in the distance.

"This beach is private," Will told her, indicating its length with the wave of his hand. "No tourists allowed, although a few trickle over by mistake. Jack hangs out here a lot. I prefer the bit of beach behind my cabana. It's more private, closed off. I'll show you some time."

Elizabeth's heart skipped at his words, and she wondered if he meant anything by them or if she was merely reading too much into it. She also made a mental note of his propensity towards private and closed off. It was at least the second time today he voiced his desire for isolation. She wondered why.

Will continued talking, unaware of her ponderings. "It's great for swimming though, snorkeling, surfing, you name it. And there," he said, pointing to the pier directly to their left, "well you're quite familiar with that, aren't you?" She shot him a playful glower and he laughed. "It's our pier, Jack's and mine. I doubt you noticed last night, but it's where we keep our boats moored."

She glanced down the length of the pier to discover he was right. At its edge, several vessels were docked including a motor boat, multiple jet skis, and a magnificent ketch whose splendor Elizabeth could only imagine with its sails unfurled.

As they walked on, Will identified the highlights to Elizabeth, pointing out the things he thought would interest her the most. Just past the pier was a bar. Its sign proclaiming it, "The Empress", held a distinctly Asian flair. When she praised the attention to detail in the resort's pirate theme, even including the multicultural aspects of piracy, Will shrugged modestly. "That was my original intent, but the inside looks nothing like that. It's the resort's only nightclub and Jack wanted to oversee its decoration. Consequently, it falls somewhere between an underwater theme and the interior of a boat. It's eccentric, but that's Jack for you."

At this she had to laugh, and wonder more at this unconventional Jack she was about to meet, but her mind hardly had time to mull him over as it was so engrossed with the sights to be seen around them.

The Empress was the demarcation point of the Black Pearl, separating the private and public portions of the property. Walking past it, they immediately encountered the resort's beach, where a smattering of guests were already taking advantage – a few surfing, fewer still swimming, most merely sunning themselves on the white sand.

In the distance was another pier, advertising rentals of various watercraft, windsurfing and the like, and beyond that stood another large structure.

"That's the Governor's Ballroom," Will explained. "It's where we have our more elaborate parties, wedding receptions, business conference, and so forth."

Elizabeth certainly had no interest in business conferences. She felt as if her entire life up until now had been one. Tea parties, luncheons, conferences, it was all the same; business, politics, _tedious_. But she imagined if it was also used for weddings, it must be rather pretty inside. She wouldn't have minded seeing for herself, but Will lead her in the opposite direction, toward the guest area, where several three-story buildings – because, he informed her, Jack didn't want a high-rise to ruin the tropical ambience – were clustered in a horseshoe around the pool area and down towards the beach.

"There's a final, smaller guest building out on the water, next to the Governor's Ballroom, but this is the main body of the hotel."

Will's comment briefly registered in Elizabeth's brain, but the bulk of her attention was captured by the immense pool stretched before them and what stood on a platform in its center: a grand ship with black sails, at the top of which hung a flag bearing the traditional scull and crossbones and, on the side, in black lettering it bore the marking, "The Black Pearl".

Between the white sand, the lush foliage all around, and now the pirate ship that was its namesake, the Black Pearl was something straight out of her dreams. "Will, this is amazing," Elizabeth exclaimed, the unchecked enthusiasm in her voice warming his heart. "It's no wonder this island called to me." She turned away from the sights around her to look at him directly. "I saw the lights on the shore from the yacht, and it felt alive and….and…._special_. I don't know," she said, looking away from him again, suddenly self-conscious and not quite able to articulate what she meant. "I just knew I had to come. It sounds silly, I know." This was the part where everyone important in her life – from her father, to James, to Estrella – would scold her, telling her to stop talking nonsense, stop comparing real life to dreams, to be practical.

"Not at all." Will smiled at her and whatever embarrassment she had been feeling melted away. No lecture, no mocking, just acceptance, perhaps even understanding. Before she had much time to consider the novelty of his response to her, he took her hand in his. "Come on," he said, guiding her past the criss-cross of chairs and tables winding around the pool, and the waiters servicing them. "You have to meet everyone."

He walked her through the Caribbean sun, his hand warm and tender and reassuring in her own, toward the building marked, "The Captain's Quarters", the main lobby and the true heart of the resort.

"During the day you can find most everyone here, all the staff that is," Will told her, keeping her hand securely in his as they crossed the open room. He told himself it was to ease her nervousness in a strange environment but, if he admitted the truth, he knew he didn't really want to let go. "This is where the guests check in and out. There's shopping, a gym, a coffee bar, a lounge, the usual amenities."

Glancing ahead of them, Will's eyes flickered with recognition and he grinned. "There's Jack."

"Oi, Will," he called, motioning to them.

As they approached him, Jack did his best impression of well-mannered, offering the princess an innocent smile. "And who might this lovely creature be?" he asked, directing the question at Will.

Will, however, only had eyes for one person in the room. He had known this would be an awkward introduction. After all, thanks to his constant unyielding penchant for honesty, he had just recently told her that Jack was the brainchild of a scheme to violate her trust, take advantage of her openness, and sell the results for profit, shaming and embarrassing her in the process. It would only make sense that feelings on Elizabeth's side wouldn't exactly be running warm towards the man in question. Still, Jack was his dearest friend and the closest thing to a brother he'd ever had, not to mention the fact that he legally owned everything around them. He hoped the two could remain on good – or at the very least civil – terms.

"Elizabeth Swann, meet Jack Sparrow," Will cautiously announced.

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," he corrected.

Elizabeth let go of Will's hand, focusing angry eyes on Jack. "Captain of what?"

"Anything you like, darlin'."

She let out an indelicate snort. "I'll just bet."

Jack ignored her jibe, instead inquiring, "Now how did someone like yourself end up at the Black Pearl?" He paused, obviously fishing for information and, to Elizabeth's mind, doing it rather poorly. "On holiday with friends perhaps?"

Elizabeth opened up her mouth, clearly preparing to let him have it, but Will placed an appeasing hand on her shoulder. The gentle touch stopped her, causing her to look up at him, and her eyes immediately softened – a gesture that did not go unnoticed by his friend.

"You can save it, Jack," Will warned. "She knows that you know……and _what your plans were_," he added significantly.

"Ahh," Jack replied, now understanding her underlying hostility. "What can I say, luv? Pirate."

"And I always thought it would be exciting to finally meet one. What a shame it didn't live up to my expectations," Elizabeth shot back.

Next to her, Will laughed, the low warmth of the sound sending a sharp tingle of attraction rocketing through her. When her eyes met his, he said, "He's just not the right one to find your excitement with."

Jack stood back and watched as a palpable sizzle passed between them. "Interesting." He had thought at first Will might actually be taking his advice. Then he'd figured this was a rescue mission. But now….there was something more, and Jack knew it even if his friend wasn't prepared to admit it.

Jack's interruption pulled them from their spell, and Will turned back to him. "Try to play nice, Jack," he admonished before focusing his attention back on Elizabeth. "I know what you're thinking. But if it's any consolation, it wasn't personal. He'd sell out his own mother."

"He's right," Jack acknowledged.

Will dipped low to whisper into Elizabeth's ear, setting off those pesky tingles again. "And we are enjoying his hospitality." He saw her shiver slightly and took it for distaste at the notion. "He really isn't a bad guy once you get to know him," Will added, his lips just brushing the edge of her earlobe.

Taking in the woman at Will's side, whose eyes – he couldn't help but notice – smoldered at her companion's nearness, Jack smirked, both at their unconscious reaction to one another and Will's 'make nice' attitude.

Will had never in his life had a 'meet the girlfriend' moment. Then again, there had never been a woman who could truly be called his girlfriend, mostly because he had his rules and avoided commitment like the plague. Will had his reasons. He'd told him once, long ago, what they were: it was because of what happened to his mother.

Jack didn't doubt the unfortunate truth of that, and there was certainly honor in Will's intentions; everything about the man was honorable. This was also why he didn't doubt the sincerity of Will's motives or his earnestness in sticking to them – which made Jack all the more interested in knowing the woman who had his friend so befuddled, causing him to already break the rule that should only be broken under one condition.

He watched the pair cross the lobby to make further introductions, a broad grin on Will's face and an easy smile on Elizabeth's as they occasionally glanced over at one another. Despite the fact that they'd only recently met…and the woman bore a royal title…..this seemed very much to Jack like a 'meet the prospective girlfriend' moment. And, in spite of _his_ commitment to promiscuity, Jack approved.

Elizabeth was feisty. He liked that in a woman. More importantly, Will seemed to like that. He liked _her_. Jack was sure of it now……which, though he'd never say so, was a little worrisome. No matter what anyone else thought, he knew Will's rules were to protect others, not himself, but he wondered if in this case his mate didn't need a little protection of his own. Unfortunately, the one woman who'd sparked something in him was of royal blood – and her place was far from the Black Pearl.

Across the lobby, Elizabeth had just met Joshamee Gibbs, Jack's self-described 'right hand man' – whatever that meant – an older man with slicked back hair and scruffy whiskers that had lost their fight with grey. Anyone back home would have paled at the very idea of her speaking to such a person, but Elizabeth found him to be kind, pleasant, and articulate, with a kind of a fatherly manner toward Will, and a fondness for relating detailed, lengthy stories behind everything and everyone around them.

"Did Will tell ya of the time when he was just eighteen and he decided – "

"Never mind, Gibbs," Will said, quickly ushering Elizabeth away.

Gibbs said no more – for now – but he followed in their wake to the front counter, curious to observe what transpired. Will introducing a young woman around was an oddity at that.

"Anna," Will said to the pretty woman behind the registration desk, "I'd like you to meet Elizabeth…..um, Elizabeth…."

"Reed," she supplied, with a pleased smile.

Will looked at her in question, but quickly finished, "Elizabeth Reed."

Anna assumed Will's hesitation was due to his simple lack of knowledge of his companion's last name, something that was unfortunate but not altogether shocking; it was only a matter of time before Jack began to rub off on him. Still, it was unheard of for Will to bring a woman around for introductions. Usually, you'd never see him with a woman at all, unless he met her at the resort – and even that was often too close for comfort. She slid out from behind the counter, looking back and forth between Elizabeth and Will and wondering just exactly what was going on between them.

"Elizabeth, this is Annamarie – "

"Jack's Anna?" Elizabeth asked him, glancing at the woman before her anew. It was no wonder she had captured Jack's attention. With her mocha skin and eyes to match, and dark flowing waves, she was as beautiful as she was alluring.

"Elizabeth, it's wonderful to meet you," Anna said. "The male/female balance around here is definitely skewed."

Elizabeth released a soft, melodic tinkle of laughter that melted Will's heart. "I'm happy to help." Leaning closer, she asked, "_Are_ you the only woman here?"

Elizabeth glanced at Will, who smiled in amusement. Of course she wasn't the only woman here. Wouldn't a resort like this be full of young women and men alike? Hadn't he only this morning explained that he'd taken her for just such a tourist? She felt a hot blush creep up her neck.

"I only wish," Anna smiled, her gaze momentarily darting to Jack.

Elizabeth didn't notice Will's eyes dim at Anna's words and the implication behind them. She was too busy feeling like a fool. What was it about this man that made her come undone? "I mean, the only woman who _works_ here."

"Not strictly speaking, but amongst the inner-circle," Anna told her.

"And we all adore her and look out for her with our very lives," Will informed with exaggerated gallantry, even adding a slight tip of the head to her.

"Yes, you do," she laughed, putting her arm around him in a half-hug that, feeling Elizabeth's watchful eyes on her, she kept carefully platonic. "But I do hope you'll _stick around long enough _to change that." She directed the statement toward Will before returning her attention to Elizabeth. "Where are you staying anyway? Here at the resort? I do an awful lot of the check-ins myself, and I don't remember you coming through, although it could have been while I was at the Empress or on break…." She turned to Jack, who had appeared at her side. "….otherwise occupied."

Anna paused as two guests just arriving approached the counter. "It will be just one moment, sir," she assured him, turning and ringing the bell on the counter to alert another member of the staff. "As I was saying," she continued, as their huddle discreetly inched away from the counter and the newly arriving couple's business, "where are you staying, Elizabeth?"

"Well, I was…ah…that is, I…." Elizabeth carefully avoided everyone's gaze as she hurriedly blurted out, "I spent last night at Will's." The eyes of everyone within earshot widened. "But I was – "

"At Will's?" Gibbs asked in amazement.

"At his cabana?" Anna clarified.

"Yes." Elizabeth looked over to Will unsurely. "Is that not allowed?" she whispered. She was a bit out of her league here. Perhaps all occupants of a hotel had to register. But he did say his quarters were private.

"Not usually," Jack answered knowingly, "but apparently Will's made an exception for you."

"I don't want to get him in any trouble," Elizabeth said.

"Not at all," Will promised her.

"At Will's place, imagine that," Gibbs muttered.

"Ahh, so this is the one we was guardin'," Pintel sneered, looking Elizabeth up and down and giving Will a congratulatory elbow in the ribs. "What'd I tell ya?" he roared to his brother. "This one here's worf guardin'."

"What, what does he mean?" Elizabeth asked Will.

"Mister Turner here sent us to stand outside his cabana this morning and make sure you didn't leave without him," Ragetti offered.

"Will?"

Though she said no more there was a soft question in her voice that made him instantly discomfited. "I'd left my Blackberry in the city and I had to go after it. I didn't want you to…to..." Will's voice trailed off, his features flushed with embarrassment.

Elizabeth slowly smiled. He was afraid she would leave. He didn't _want_ her to leave.

"This is Pintel and Ragetti, by the way," Will informed her. "They're brothers, and two of the longest standing employees."

"We do stand awful long don't we?" Pintel quipped to at least his own amusement, though Ragetti joined in on the chortling.

"Hey, you two. We've got paying guests," Jack commanded, nodding his head toward the luggage of the couple just finishing up at registration. "And don't muck about," he adjoined in a hissed whisper as they hustled toward the guests' bags. "Good help is hard to find," he shook his head glumly to Elizabeth.

She fixed him with a meaningful look. "I –I wouldn't know about that."

"Right," Jack sardonically retorted. He turned his head to whistle behind him, and a capuchin monkey in a stripped vest with billowy white sleeves suddenly bounded out from behind the front counter, leaping up and perching on his shoulder. Elizabeth closed her mouth when she realized it was gaping open, but it was too late; he'd already seen. "What? You didn't think I'd have a dog, did you?"

Will gently took Elizabeth's arm and discreetly led her aside. "I know it's a bit much to take in all at once, but you wanted pirates." He smiled nervously, but when she failed to respond he hurried on. "I'll just go talk to Jack about the cabana across the way. I'm sure it won't be a problem. It will only take a minute, if…if you don't mind." He looked at her uncertainly, trying to gauge her reaction.

"I'm not going anywhere." She backed up her words with a soft smile, pleased at his concern for her and his wish that she stay – in spite of his apparently repeated qualms that she'd flee at the first opportunity.

Elizabeth found a cozy table in the lobby and sat down, her eyes following the man who occupied her mind. Will was wonderful, and yet there was a strange dichotomy to him that left her wondering how he could be so self-assured and confident with Jack and the others, but show such an endearing uncertainty with her. She couldn't tell if he was just shy around women – although he didn't seem so with Ann – or particularly with her, but it was adorable. _He_ was adorable.

Everything about Will was amazing. She was discovering that more and more the longer and better she knew him. He was ridiculously handsome, caring, considerate, and fiercely loyal to those lucky enough to be a part of his 'inner circle'.

Elizabeth watched Will turn and scan the room for her and, though her mind scolded her that she should at least have the self-respect to pretend to not be staring, she couldn't look away. Being here with him was like suddenly waking up when she hadn't even realized she'd been asleep.

Locating her, his eyes brightened and he walked in her direction. The answering smile on her lips was as automatic as breathing.

"You've settled everything, then?" she asked, with perhaps a slight lack of her customary boldness. It was a new experience living in a world that was not her own and depending on favors from virtual strangers.

Will looked at her and his brow furrowed as he sat down beside her. "Yes, unless you've changed your mind. You don't want to stay?"

"You keep saying that. Do you expect me to run off?" She immediately regretted her question. He very likely did. After all, that was how they met. He was well acquainted with her history of running away when the situation was too awkward or emotionally difficult to handle.

"I…." Will faltered, unsure of how to answer her question. "I guess I do."

He had a valid point, but it stung nonetheless. She _had_ just run away, but from something bad, not from something good. "But why would I? You've been wonderful."

Will gazed into her eyes and genuinely confessed, "I'm just a little surprised that someone like you would willingly be here with someone like me."

Elizabeth studied him carefully, a sudden thought occurring to her. "Have you been so good to me, treating me this way, because I'm a princess?"

"You…you think I want money, a reward?" Will asked, hurt by her assumption.

He was clearly insulted and she instantly felt terrible. "Will, no. _No_. That's not what I meant. Only that you think you have to treat me differently, specially."

"Don't you deserve to be treated like you're special?"

"Well….I…." She considered that a moment. "No, not because I'm a princess."

Will shook his head. "I don't treat you like you're special because you're a princess. That has nothing to do with it," he told her gently. "You're special because you're you, a runaway, pirate-obsessed, headstrong, independent, beautiful woman – who is also apparently quite a swimmer." Doesn't she know that, he wondered. _Shouldn't_ she know that? What was wrong with the men in her life that she didn't?

Jack reappeared at that moment, holding a drink in one hand and brandishing a gold key in the other. "Will tells me you'll be staying with us for a while."

Elizabeth rose from the table with practiced dignity and Will followed suit. "If you don't mind." Jack proffered the key, waiting for her to take it, which she did. "Thank you." Glancing over at Will, she smiled happily. "I've never had a place of my own."

"Not even a room?" he asked, finding that hard to believe.

She looked down sheepishly. "Actually I had an entire wing, but it was always crowded with maids and secretaries and, before that, governesses. I've never been allowed to do anything on my own," she said in excitement, the smile back upon her face.

Will looked down at her in wonder. She was incredible, and he had an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and hold her forever.

"Yes, but are you sure you can handle yourself?" Jack asked. Near the end of the sentence the unintended sexual connotation of his words occurred to him and he looked sideways to Will, grinning devilishly.

"I assure you, Mr. Sparrow, I can handle myself quite masterfully. I have before and I will again, to great success."

Jack chocked on his drink.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

He slid a wicked glance to Will, who saw it but tried to ignore him. However, now that Jack had started this, his unruly senses were calling such a picture to mind and he could feel his temperature rising. Then he remembered she had Norrington for that – which went a long way toward cooling him off. Until Jack spoke again.

"Well, if you _should_ need any assistance…" He stopped to clear his throat. "…handling yourself, I'm sure Will here would be more than happy to help."

The particular imagery that statement brought to Will's mind was so shockingly vivid it was nearly too much for him. Elizabeth looked up at him amiably, but his eyes were glazed and he seemed not to notice. At her curious expression, Jack too glanced over at Will and almost laughed out loud. His face was flushed and his mind was clearly elsewhere; Jack happened to know exactly where and with whom – and doing what. He'd never seen his friend lose it so entirely over a woman.

"Wouldn't you, Will?" he asked in amusement, but no response came. "Maybe he wouldn't," he said to Elizabeth. Reaching out, Jack slapped Will on the back. "_Will_, wouldn't you help her to handle herself, here….anywhere?"

Will snapped out of it and saw Elizabeth looking at him sweetly. "Yes, of course. Yes, I would." He surreptitiously shot Jack a look that clearly said, cease and desist, _now_.

Elizabeth gave Will a heavenly smile, then turned to Jack. "See, I know he would." She turned back to Will, regarding him in what Jack thought was a sickenly close to adoring light. "After all, you promised to be my guide," she said with a wink that jump-started Will's already heated body. "And Jack has a point. You could be a great help to me. You do know the territory quite well."

His thoughts still on her 'handling herself', Jack's mind immediately jumped to another territory entirely and her apparent faith in Will's expertise on it, and he sputtered on his drink, this time some spraying from his mouth.

"Maybe you should put the drink down," Will acerbically suggested.

He did, but that didn't stop his merciless taunting. "I was just thinking how right Elizabeth was. You _do_ know the area well." He then focused his attention on Elizabeth, who appeared to be nodding in agreement. "I know he'd be more than willing to come over and demonstrate the high points. I'm sure he'll make a thorough sweep of the region – and would be happy to do it repeatedly if given the chance."

"Well I don't think _that_ will be necessary." She hadn't failed to notice the odd turn the conversation had taken. Were the appliances all that difficult to handle? Or perhaps they meant finding her way around the property? "If you would just instruct me once or twice," she said to Will, "I'm sure I can catch on. I'm a very fast learner."

"I'll help you in whatever way I can, whenever you need me," he told her in perfect sincerity. She seemed pleased at his avowal and Will gave a silent thanks that it nicely rounded off the dialogue, which had taken on a life of its own. "If you'll excuse us, I'll help Jack get cleaned up," he said, indicating the "pirate's" damp shirt where he'd spat his drink. "I'll be right back."

Returning five minutes later, after giving his friend a thorough setting down, Will walked back over to the table where Elizabeth sat. Despite their last, innuendo laden conversation, the initial interactions between Elizabeth and those within his world had gone off mostly well. He was pretty happy with it actually.

Will knew the feelings swilling in his gut were crazy, but there they were. He couldn't deny he felt a distinct sense of pride introducing Elizabeth to his friends, as if to say, "Look, isn't she wonderful? And she's mine". Except she wasn't, his mind reminded his wayward heart.

He looked down at Elizabeth, fiddling with the key Jack had given her, and experienced a sudden trepidation, wondering how she was taking his ragtag family. Did she like them? Did she think them strange or, worse yet, beneath her? But, then again, it shouldn't matter, his mind chimed in once more. Her presence was temporary and, as he had to keep reminding himself, she was nothing to him. There wasn't – there _couldn't_ be – anything between them.

Will sank down into the chair beside her, wanting several things he couldn't have, the chief amongst them at the moment was answers. Why was she here? Why had she run away? Who was she running away from? And how long would she stay before returning to a world in which he would never be welcome?

Impulsively, he reached out and took her hand, cradling it in his own. When she didn't pull away, he gently stated, "I'm going to need some answers eventually. I know I volunteered to be your guide, and I don't mind being your accomplice. I'd only like to know just exactly how much of a crime I'm committing here."

His voice held a teasing quality, his eyes a tender intensity that captured and held her own. To put it mildly, she was utterly enthralled by him. "I know. And you deserve them. You've taken me in and sheltered me without question. You've been kind and so very sweet to me when you didn't have to be. The truth is," Elizabeth conveyed, "I made a drastic, one could even say frightening, decision rather rashly. And…..well, I could've done it on my own. I _could have_…" Her chin rose in headstrong tenacity.

Will's lips curled into a smile, charmed by her obstinate, stubborn independence. Anything she set her mind to she was certain she could do – and he believed she could. He was hopelessly captivated by her.

"But," Elizabeth warmly finished, "I'm glad I don't have to. I'm glad I have you. So….thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Will?" He looked up from toying with her fingers. "I really meant what I said. I'm glad it was you who found me. I'm glad we met."

"Me too." She smiled and he took her other hand, encasing them both together within his. "And, now that you're here, what do you intend on doing next?"

"I don't know," she laughed. "I guess I hadn't really thought about it." She chewed her full lower lip, an action that captured Will's attention and did far more for him than it should have. All at once, her face lit with animated anticipation. "I – I've never been to a sidewalk café. I've seen them in the movies and television, and they look lovely. I've always wanted to go, but I was never allowed. It was too public."

"Well, that's a start," Will said. "One sidewalk café, coming up."


	5. Confessions and Changed Intentions

~

* * *

Look around your world, pretty baby.

Is it everything you hoped it would be?

The wrong guy, the wrong situation.

The right time to roll to me.

- J. Currie

* * *

Elizabeth's mouth watered as their plates were set before them. She had wanted to sample the local cuisine as part of her first little adventure – brunch at a sidewalk café – and so Will had ordered eggs; tropical fruit salsa, made with fresh guava, pineapple, papaya, tossed together and sprinkled with lime juice; and something called coconut bake, that he'd described as 'sort of a crumbly sweet bread'.

"This looks delicious, Will," she gushed. Taking a bite, her ecstatic "Mmm" audibly confirmed that, in this case, appearances hadn't been deceiving.

Will laughed lightly. "I take it the café meets with your approval."

Elizabeth looked about them at the hustle and bustle – if such a term could apply to a sleepy island town – of the locals and the tourists shopping, sightseeing, and simply milling about. "Everything does," she sighed. "It's perfect here."

She set down her fork to take a sip of her coffee, hot and strong and full-bodied – much like the man sitting across from her. The unruly thought crept into her mind and she bit back a smirk.

"What?" Will asked, bemused.

"Nothing," she answered a little too quickly, garnering his suspicions, but he let it pass.

They talked on as they finished their meal, the conversation free and easy and light, and Elizabeth couldn't help but notice there was something new and different with Will. When she talked, he listened, really listened. Everything she said held weight and meaning to him, even if it was just her opinion on film, music, and pop culture – anything and nothing at all. He seemed to genuinely care what she thought and felt when no one else before had even bothered to ask. She had been immediately attracted to Will from the start, and had sincerely begun to like him before but even more so now.

As a result, when it came around to the inevitable question – why she had really jumped from that ship – she felt comfortable enough, safe enough, with him to finally tell the truth she'd kept locked inside, hidden from everyone, until this very moment.

"I hate my life," she gravely admitted, and it already felt as if a great heaviness had been lifted by the simple speaking of the words aloud.

Will's brow furrowed and he studied her carefully. He had expected a tiff, a nasty little disagreement with her father, or perhaps the fiancé she had yet to speak of. He hadn't been prepared for such a frank and dire statement – or the unchecked misery in her voice as she said it. He had absolutely no idea what she did or what was required of her, but apparently whatever it was it made her utterly miserable. "It's that bad?" he asked in concern.

Elizabeth missed the compassionate timbre of his question and an instant wall went up. The world was in the midst of an economic crisis. He must think her frivolous, superficial, and downright spoiled to complain about being a princess when there were so many others struggling to merely survive. "Of course there are many benefits to my life I won't pretend to deny," she said in a coolly diplomatic tone. "I certainly never go without, or lack for any of the finer things in life," she acknowledged.

"That's true enough, I'm sure," Will replied, fixing his measured gaze upon her. "But there's a lot more to life than just the 'finer things'. In fact, the most important things in life are pretty basic. And, unfortunately, anyone – from the poorest to the most well-to-do – can go without."

Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes squinting in sharp focus. "_Yes_," she said, stunned and a little overwhelmed that someone at last identified. Since she was a little girl, she'd grown increasingly unhappy with her life, but there was a duel guilt that always silenced her: firstly, in not wishing to hurt or disappoint the father that doted on her so; and secondly, in not wanting to complain at her lot when she frequently saw the situation of others so much less fortunate than herself. Still, for her, it had always been about more than just money and finances, labels on her clothing, and social standing. She was relieved and overjoyed to realize that Will seemed to understand this.

He offered her an encouraging smile. "What is it that you hate?" he asked gently.

Elizabeth hesitated, worrying her lower lip, looking less than forthcoming. "I know it will sound spoiled and selfish and –"

"Ah ah," he interrupted in a playful scolding, "selfish is what we're going for, remember? We were trying to be pirates."

Something about this man immediately set her at ease and, a smile curving her lips, she continued. "Well….." She paused, considering. Though this profound frustration, this acute desperation, coursed through her as deep as the blood in her veins, it was difficult to articulate. It was hard to know where to even begin.

"Everything about my life is scheduled and fiercely controlled. _Everything_ is regulated, from my day to day affairs, to public appearances, to every last corner of my social life. There's hardly a minute of the day or night that I'm not doing something for someone or some purpose – a charity event, a well placed photo op, etcetera, etcetera." She sighed deeply and Will gave her hand a light and tender squeeze of support. "I actually use the term "my life" rather loosely, as I've never thought of it as mine. So little of what I do – hardly any of it, in fact – is of my own choosing."

"That _must_ be difficult," Will softly agreed. "I can't imagine actually. Not having any say in your life whatsoever? It seems criminal."

"Only in its cruelest form." Elizabeth took a deep breath, wondering if she'd said enough or if she should disclose the remainder. So far she had voiced complaints about her schedule, the monotony and stress of her life, but did she dare confess the rest, the emotional messy part that would leave her so bare? Yet, now that she had started, the words were flowing from her with such clarity and candor they couldn't be stopped. And Will was so empathetic, looking at her with such openness and sensitivity, that she didn't want to stop them even if she could.

"It might not seem so when I say every minute of my time is scheduled and planned, but it's terribly lonely," she quietly admitted, looking away from him to knead the napkin in her lap. "I'm isolated from the world, from my father even. We each have our own agendas and responsibilities. Sometimes I can go days, weeks even, without seeing him. And while I've been exposed to hundreds of wonderful things, it's true, there are thousands more I've been held back from, like this right here." She glanced around them appreciatively before meeting his gaze again. "Sitting on a sidewalk as the world goes by, enjoying a wonderful meal with a caring friend."

Will's heart suffused with warmth at her words and he wondered if she even realized what she'd said. Either way, it pleased him much more than it should that she spoke of him with such tenderness.

Elizabeth tossed the napkin aside, pushing her plate to the corner of the table and leaning closer to Will as she imparted, "But I think the most difficult part of it all is that I go around playing this role and it's nothing like the person I am inside, and all I want to do is break free and let her out......" She released a long, steadying breath. "But I can't…..And so I ran away," she shrugged. "I had a bit of a fit that last night, a tantrum, I guess. 'She' – the real me – was banging on the walls, shouting to be set free, and I voiced her concerns a little too loudly. They gave me something to quiet me down and….well it all got fuzzy after that. I just knew I had to get away. The time had come and I was grasping my one chance with both hands."

Will shook his head, thinking the phrase 'a bird in a gilded cage' had never been more apt. "And so….now what?" he asked, taking her hand and this time not letting go.

"I don't know." Her hand felt so good inside of his, like it was made to fit there, and she didn't want to think about anything beyond this moment. "I'll have to go back eventually. I realize that. But I've tasted freedom now, a little of it anyway, and I'm not ready to give that up."

"Alright," he easily conceded, working his thumb over the back of her hand in slow circles. "So, Miss Elizabeth Swann, what would you like to do with your freedom?"

"I'd like to have fun, just….actually live for once. To wake up and do exactly as I please, _be_ exactly who I please."

"I'm not sure anyone really does that all of the time," Will told her, "but I'd guess a lot more than you."

"So would I," she laughed. "All I know is that I won't stand for having run away for nothing."

"Okay," Will smiled. "Then how about this: you said there's a thousand things you've been held back from, that you've never had a chance to do – _and_ that you never get to decide things for yourself. So why don't we make this not just about seeing the island, but about a list of 'firsts', all the things you've always wanted to do but no one would ever let you."

"That's brilliant," Elizabeth grinned. "That's…" She broke off into a trill of giddy laughter. "It's fantastic. But I'd have to have time to think," she said, running her hands distractedly through her hair. "It's been so long since anyone's asked _me_ what I wanted."

"You had better get used to it," Will said, letting go of her hand long enough to leave money for the check, then enfolding it back into his. "From here on out, it's _all_ about what you want."

"Alright," she laughed, grabbing up her bag and slipping its strap over her head to lie across her chest. "I think we should start with finding me some new clothes."

"Your wish is my command," he declared.

"Oh, are you a genie now and not just a hero of young women in distress?" she teased.

"I don't think you've ever been 'in distress' one day of your life. You're too much of a strong, independent woman for that. But I'll take what I can get. Hero, hmm?"

Elizabeth laughed, allowing him to lead the way.

Will escorted Elizabeth down to the waterfront and the shops that lined its length. The harbor area, the heart of the town, was an eclectic mix of farmer's market and boutiques catering to the tourists, with street venders peddling knickknacks and regional fare. Between the locals and the visitors, this was _the_ place to go to meet interesting people and, since he was a young boy, it had always been his favorite place in town to hang out.

He first directed Elizabeth to a shop he knew would meet her needs in basic island wear and at the same time not completely break the budget – although he didn't know just exactly what sort of a pocket money a princess carried around. But if she planned to stay here any length of time, as he hoped and she seemed to have indicated, then she'd need to make whatever funds she had stretch – not that he wouldn't be willing to help her in any way he could. However, she was so fiercely independent he had the feeling she wouldn't easily accept money from him. But unfortunately she'd left with nothing but the clothes on her back – and that mysterious gold chain she wore that disappeared down into her cleavage, obscuring whatever hung at its end but making Will's fingers itch to follow its length.

As they entered the shop and Elizabeth began to browse, Will regarded her closely, watching for a reaction as he said, "When you told me what about your life, I noticed you didn't mention your mother."

The clothing hanging on the racks offered a convenient distraction. Elizabeth continued to steadily flip through it while she answered, "That's because she's passed. She died the summer I turned seven."

"I'm sorry," he offered in quiet consolation.

"I have very nice memories of her, though. Everyone says how like her I am……I think if she would have lived my life might be different," she told him, meeting his gaze again. "I – I mean, of course it would be. She'd be alive," she stammered, returning her attention to the clothing. The subject obviously made her uncomfortable, but Will watched her silently, waiting for her to continue. "I – it's just….she understood me, and I think she would've fought harder than Father to reconcile the person I must be with the person I really am, if that makes any sense at all."

"It does, to me."

Elizabeth looked up at Will and smiled. "You know, you don't have to wait around while I try on clothes. I know how men hate that – or so I hear." He laughed, but still hesitated, so she added, "It's alright. I promise I'll wait right here for you to get back."

Ordinarily such protectiveness would have annoyed, even angered, her. But she had the distinct impression that Will's had nothing to do with her title and position, or even some imagined inability to take care of herself, but simply from his desire to be there to help and look out for her. She found the knowledge endearing.

"Well," he conceded, "I guess I could go get you set up with a new phone. Of course I'll have to register it under an alias. Not that anyone here would know who you were by name, but someone looking for you might – oh, sorry," he said, realizing the unintended slight in his statement.

"Not at all. That's the idea, isn't it? That I blend in, that no one knows who I am."

"Exactly. But what's with this Elizabeth Reed business?" he asked mischievously. "Care to explain?"

"Mary Reed, the infamous female pirate," she stated in exaggerated reverence. "She was my favorite as a young girl."

Will flashed her a smile that was as brilliant as it was sexy. "You are a fascinating woman, Elizabeth Swann."

"Thank you," she laughed.

* * *

When Will returned to the shop, clutching a modest but functional cell phone in his hand, Elizabeth was just emerging from the dressing room. Seeing her, his mouth went dry. She wasn't dressed in a garish or even purposefully provocative manner, like the college girls he often dodged back at the Black Pearl, but the dress she had chosen wasn't nearly as sedate and demure as the one he'd first met her in. It seemed Elizabeth was exercising her newfound freedom in her clothing choices as well. This new ensemble skirted her gentle curves in all the right places, making a man want to cross a room – an ocean – just to talk to her. The thought that she would be dressing this way from now on left him more than a little shaky.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Um…." He allowed his gaze to travel the length of her body once before forcing himself to look away. "Yeah, yes, it's…pretty."

Elizabeth smiled, crossing to the counter to pay for it and her other purchases.

Walking out of the shop, Elizabeth steered Will over to a vendor who was selling freshly baked spiced buns, a local favorite. It had been only just over an hour since they'd eaten, but the rolls smelled too good to pass up, the mingled scent of cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg teasing their nostrils until they both gave in to the craving.

"So…" Will said, as they found an empty space on the edge of a small cobbled granite wall that, judging by the many others perched there, apparently also doubled as a pedestrian bench. "While you're here enjoying your freedom," he began, carefully keeping his tone that of nonchalance, "is the Duke going to meet you?"

Elizabeth laughed, nearly chocking on her bread. "Who?"

"You know, the _Duke_, your fiancé. Are you planning to meet him here?"

"James?" When Will nodded, she asked, "How did you know about – oh yes, that's right. You googled me….And it says all that?"

Will shrugged. "It's the internet."

"Well I don't know what all it said," she defensively replied, "but you can't believe everything you read."

Will didn't know how to take that answer and her expression was inscrutable, giving nothing away. "So…he's not your fiancé then?"

"No…I mean, yes. Yes, he is. But he's not meeting me here. He, ah….he – he doesn't know where I am either." She was tempted to add, _He's one of the main things I'm running away from_, but she refrained.

Will ingested her words. Confusion mingled with interest as he watched Elizabeth suddenly became enthralled with brushing every last crumb from her lap.

'_The Duke'_. The words had surprised and jarred her. Her fiancé was a duke, she a princess. For a brief half hour, she had forgotten what she was. She never thought of it as 'who'. She had no influence or choice over being born a Swann, and being one did not define who she was. 'Princess' was her title. _She_ was something altogether different: a complex, independent, frustratingly stubborn when she needed to be, warm and loving woman…..if any one paid attention. James never seemed to. He'd always missed her quite entirely – which probably went a long way toward explaining why in that same half hour she'd completely forgotten his existence.

Elizabeth's hand was currently making another absentminded sweep of her thigh when Will placed his atop hers, stilling its motion. "They're all gone," he informed her, with a small smile, indicating her crumb-free lap.

The sight of his hand perched atop her thigh, even with the barrier of her own hand between, caused her heart to skip a beat. It was startling what this man could do to her. She'd never experienced anything like it.

They ate the rest of their snack in a companionable silence. When Will saw that she was finished, he threw away her napkin for her and took her hand, helping her from the wall's edge. She stood gracefully, discreetly brushing off her bottom for any remaining specks of dirt or sand – which he found that he envied, should any still happen to be clinging to her.

As they set back out along the line of shops, Will turned to Elizabeth and said, "I think I underestimated you."

She looked at him curiously. "How so?"

He smiled, looking away sheepishly. "When I found out who and what you were, I thought you might be some prim and proper, pampered little rich girl." Elizabeth had the courtesy to laugh at that, probably because it was such a far cry from who she actually was. Either way, it eased his embarrassment and brought his eyes back to hers. "I hadn't counted on you being so beguiling….or filling out a dress quite the way you do."

A warm blush stained her cheeks, but she held his gaze as she asked, "Are you flirting with me, Mr. Turner?"

"A little. Do you mind?

Elizabeth grinned. "Not a bit."

"Royal princess goes slumming?"

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say, as her features turned cool and closed-off. "Those are your words, not mine."

Will thought, in disappointment, that he'd ruined their afternoon and could all but kick himself. However, she forgave him soon enough, gasping and grabbing his arm, hauling him towards the dock's edge as a particularly impressive sloop sailed past. Then the tension was broken and they went about purchasing the rest of her needs, and merely exploring, as if the incident had never happened.

Will watched Elizabeth appreciatively as she absorbed the wonders around her. Out here, free and easy in the open air, she came alive. She was like a kid in a candy store, taking in everything – the sights, the sounds, the smells – with fascinated enjoyment. And he reveled in her delight. She was smiling and laughing….and beautiful beyond words. He found it necessary to keep repeatedly reciting the mantra in his head: _Don't embarrass yourself, don't come on to her_. She was a princess, after all. Granted, she didn't act like one, but that was still what she was and the life she would eventually return to, leaving him far behind. Princesses, engaged ones at that, did not have one-night stands or even brief affairs, at least not princesses like her – and with someone like him…But who was he kidding anyway? He wanted more than just sex from her. And, even in a solely sexual affair, one night with Elizabeth would never be enough. But one night was likely all he could ever hope for, if that.

Still he couldn't help it. She stirred something in him that no one else ever had. How did she have the power to do this? He felt a funny little flip in his heart whenever she smiled, and he had an overwhelming need to keep her safe, do whatever it takes to make her happy and see that smile again.

Somehow, this quickly, she had gotten to him. There was just something about her and, for the first time in his life, it wasn't only sexual. Sure, there was that too, ever since he found her lying on the pier, but this was more, something deeper; she intrigued him on a whole new level.

Elizabeth was…enchanting. She had sass and wit and intelligence. She was refined with unmistakable class, and yet there was this whole other side to her – one he suspected most people did not get to see – that was rebellious and untamed, impish and impertinent, even downright naughty; didn't the pirate fetish say it all? She was the most multifaceted woman he had ever known, and all of that – not to mention her undeniable beauty and killer body – made for one striking combination that pulled at his heart and screamed for his mind to pay attention. This was something new, something different enough to make him want to toss out every rule he'd ever made. This felt like what he'd been waiting for……but it couldn't be; _she_ couldn't be. She didn't live here, wasn't planning to stay. And this was worse than even a simple vacationer passing through. She was a princess of all things, way out of his league – and soon to be married to another man. Whatever his heart was trying to tell him, he would just make certain his mind won out.

* * *

It was well into the early evening by the time Will and Elizabeth began to set back for the Black Pearl, having decided to skip dinner, opting instead for snacks along the way of run raisin ice cream – made with coconut milk, Will had told her, which she found absurdly thrilling – banana fritters, and mango juice smoothies.

As they walked in the fading sunlight, Elizabeth subtly studied Will. There was no denying he was a handsome man – gorgeous really – but James was no slouch. True enough, in the looks department Will had him beat, but she'd seen handsome men before in her lifetime, seen and met them, even been hit on by a few. But Will was different. She had a bubbly feeling inside just being with him, being near him, talking to him, getting to know. Whatever it was about him that made her feel this way, she wanted to explore it, to know more of it, more of him. And not for the first time in her life she wished that she was just a normal woman. Then she could settle down and make a life here. They could date, perhaps fall in love….and she could satisfy this aching need to know what it would feel like if he pressed his lips to hers. But she was just passing through and, aside from his one flattering compliment about the way she looked in her dress, he had shown zero inclination to explore such whims with her.

To occupy her mind and distract her eyes, which had errantly settled on his slightly parted mouth, she decided to ask the question that had occurred to her earlier but she'd been too preoccupied to remember to ask. "Will?"

He broke out of whatever reverie he seemed to have been in and turned to face her. She had no way of knowing his heart was melting at simply hearing his name, soft and low, from her lips.

"Earlier, when I first decided to stay, you said this would be a holiday for us both."

"Yes, and I meant it," he replied sincerely. "I thoroughly enjoyed today, didn't you?"

"Yes," she smiled dazzlingly. "But, I meant, you said it would be a holiday for you to relax and have fun while you were off work." When he nodded, she went on. "What is it, if you don't mind my asking, that you do?"

Will laughed lightly, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. "You bare your heart to me and think I would mind if you ask my profession?" She knew no answer was required and merely looked back at him with an equally playful gaze. "I'm a naval architect. Right now, I work as a shipwright."

"I'm sorry, what exactly does that entail?" she asked self-consciously, again thinking what a snob she must look to him.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Will replied with a reassuring smile. "It's not just you; no one seems to know what that means. A naval architect is a kind of an engineer who designs and oversees the construction of ships. Yachts, power boats, ferries, you name it – just about any kind of watercraft, and offshore structures too."

"But you said right now you work as a shipwright?"

Will let out a wistful sigh Elizabeth was positive had been unintentional and had gone unnoticed by him. "I have a Master of Engineering degree in Naval Architecture from University College London. I have all the classic training, but it takes money and P.R., among other things, to start up your own company. I could've worked for the military, but my interest runs toward the commercial sphere. And I might have joined an established company, but I'll confess I like the freedom, both creatively and literally, of working for myself – not that I lack discipline."

"No," Elizabeth agreed, listening intently and with great interest. "I can see that you don't."

He smiled at that, continuing, "And I have no plans to relocate. The island's been my home since I was a boy. For all those reasons, a startup of my own made the most sense and it's still my eventual ambition. But in the meantime I work as a shipwright, locally and amongst the chain of neighboring islands."

"And right now you work for someone else?"

"No. I contract out my services privately."

"I don't understand then. How does that differ from what you want to do?"

"A shipwright designs and builds ships from scratch, or repairs existing ones. It's all done by private commission, usually by a single wealthy owner, and on a much smaller scale than my ultimate goal. Oftentimes I get the chance to work with old-fashioned wooden vessels," Will said, looking to Elizabeth who, with her confessed love of pirates and all things nautical, he imagined would find interest in the subject. And he wasn't wrong. She raptly hung on every word, marveling that their tastes were so similar. "There's a certain degree of carpentry involved," he further elucidated, "but I also render the drawings, make the illustrations and proportions in accordance with the client's specification. So I still get to exercise a great deal of creativity and craftsmanship. And there's a certain amount of tradition and – I'll say it – romance," he declared, emphasizing the word with great flourish and making his companion laugh, "to designing and watching a ship come to life in the same way it's been done for generations."

He joked when he spoke of it, but Elizabeth could tell Will held great respect and pride for what he did. It made her admire him all the more.

"But…." He paused, on the cusp of admitting a long held aspiration no one knew of but Jack. "….I hope to one day have the opportunity to design commercial cruise ships, under my own company name. Not that I necessarily want to give up all that I do now, but a little of both, small scale and large, is my ultimate professional dream. But, as I said, it takes time and money and all sorts of resources I don't yet have."

Elizabeth gazed over at Will, a light dawning. "Which explains why, at least for a minute or two, you considered going along with Jack's plan. I knew there had to be a reason, a really good one – something that you wanted desperately – to even make you contemplate it at all. You just don't strike me as the type."

"Well, thank you for that." He put his hand on her arm, suddenly stopping their progress, and turned her to face him fully. "But you do know that I never would have – "

"I know," she assured him. She looked at him, his features backlit by the last vestiges of sunlight as it dipped beneath the horizon line, a stray curl fallen loose from his fastened locks fluttering temptingly near his ear in the soft breeze. As if taking on a life of its own, her hand raised to lightly rest against his cheek. "I know you never would."

Something changed in Will's eyes the moment Elizabeth's fingers touched his skin, but she seemed to suddenly realize what she was doing, pulling her hand away with a quickness that left him feeling bereft.

"I truly do enjoy my work though," he said, quickly changing the subject, glad for the distraction. "I've been building ships this way with my father since I was old enough to walk and, whether or not my company ever comes to be, I'll go on doing just that; it's called to me ever since I was a lad here, watching the ships sail."

"But you weren't born here," Elizabeth astutely pointed out. "You speak with an English accent that couldn't have been picked up merely by attending university there."

"No," he smiled. "You're right. Both my parent were from England. I was born and raised there until I was twelve." She looked at him in question, but he read her mind without the need to ask it in aloud. "My father often sailed to the Caribbean as part of his work. He was a shipwright's apprentice and part-time sailor for hire. Eventually, when I was eight, he moved here for good. I stayed behind with my mother."

"It must have been difficult when your parents spilt," she said, her tone offering quiet sympathy.

"It was, for both my mother and I….especially her. Shortly after that, the illness came. Just past my twelve birthday, she died." Elizabeth noted the pain in his voice, but he quickly recovered. "That's when I traveled to live with my father – and how I got mixed up with Jack. He was my father's mate long before he was mine."

"And where is he now, your father?" she gently asked.

"He passed on too, when I was seventeen, just before I moved back to England to begin my first year at UCL."

"I'm sorry, Will," she said quietly, offering a light, consoling hand upon his forearm. "I know the pain of losing one parent. To lose two must have been nearly unbearable."

"I had my studies," he shrugged. "And Jack, and the rest here, to come back to."

Elizabeth nodded, but knew there was more to be told there – and a wound that hadn't quite yet healed.

They continued on in a stilted silence down the road whose end, she already recognized, filtered into the Black Pearl. But, rather than following it onto the property, Will all at once took hold of her hand, leading her down a small side path that wound nearer to the shore.

"Where are we going," she asked in curiosity, not minding the detour but wondering all the same what he had in mind.

"I want to show you something."

Elizabeth allowed Will to lead her, gently flexing her fingers in his, causing him to do the same, the light friction of skin-on-skin contact sending chills up her arm.

She excitedly waited for whatever sight she was about to behold but, in the distance, she could see the path ahead suddenly stop, a complete dead-end. When they got closer to its end, however, she saw a quaint stone fountain, lit from above.

"What's this?" she asked inquisitively, letting go of his hand to peer into the pool's depth, seeing a wealth of coins of various size and color at its bottom.

"It's called the Well of Wishes," he explained, watching her examine the fountain, at length perching on its edge and looking expectantly up to Will for the story she knew would soon follow. "Legend has it, around the time this island was first discovered by Europeans, there was a much smaller island off its shores– really nothing more than a sandbar hidden inside a cave system – known as Isla de Muerta. According to the story," he went on as Elizabeth listened with wide eyes, her fingers absently stroking the water's surface, "pirates kept their looted treasure there, Aztec gold and other coins pilfered from the slave trade. But as it was all blood money, from the sweat, agony, and murder of tormented human beings, there was a curse upon the treasure. The pirates who took it, and anyone else who touched it, were destroyed, along with the island itself."

"Wow," she breathed, a broad awestruck smile breaking out across her face.

"I thought you'd like it," Will laughed. "The locals found it just as fascinating. Years later, this fountain was built to commemorate it. And, so that they would never forget the lesson of greed versus humanitarianism learned there, they began bringing coins and presenting them into the well rather than taking them. Now the _new_ legend has it, to honor that spirit of generosity, whenever you offer a coin into the well, your one wish will come true."

Elizabeth twisted about, regarding the coins at the fountain's bottom with renewed interest and wonder.

"That explains the variety of coins in the well," Will informed her. "Locals come and tourists too, from around the world. All sorts of currency are thrown in. It's collected at the end of the month and donated to a local charity."

Elizabeth stood, leaning over the water and gazing past her reflection to the hundreds of coins beneath. "Imagine all these people, from all walks of life, coming here, hoping for their wishes to be heard."

She turned to Will and found that, in her distraction, he had dug into his pocket and retrieved a coin, which he proffered now. "Go ahead. Make a wish."

Her eyes never leaving his, Elizabeth took the coin from his hand. With great reverence, she stood at the well's edge, closing her eyes and going still for a moment before tossing the coin into the water to join the others. Then she turned back to Will, her lips softly curving upward. "There," she sighed.

A mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he stepped closer to her. "Are you going to tell me what you wished for?"

"No," she laughingly retorted. Smiling, he took her hand and they began walking back the way they came. "Besides," she added, her voice now tempered with wistfulness, "it hasn't much chance of coming true."

"Oh, I don't know," Will answered. "They say anything can happen on the full moon." He pointed up at the moon large and bright in the sky, showing her that tonight was just such a night.

* * *

Fifteen minutes had passed by the time Will and Elizabeth arrived at the front door of her cabana, both having enjoyed the leisurely meandering walk through the Black Pearl, neither in a hurry to end their evening.

This was the most fun Elizabeth had ever had in her life, and the closest to unfettered happiness she had felt in a very long time. It was all so liberating, simply being free to walk about wherever she chose, and talk and laugh for as long as she wished about anything and everything she could think of without being judged, or sshhed, or told the topic of conversation was 'inappropriate to the gathering'. Will was altogether different from anyone she'd ever known, and he treated her differently too, as if she were a person and not an entity, as if he saw and valued who she really was in a way no one else did.

Will too couldn't remember a time he had ever enjoyed a woman's – or _any_ person's, for that matter – company more. There was just something about Elizabeth that made everything within him, both the physical and the emotional, stand up and take notice. He wanted nothing more than to continue to be around her, getting to know her – of course flirting shamelessly all the while. It was only the irrefutable knowledge that such behavior would lead to certain rejection that kept him in line all night. Still, he was uncomfortably aware that his unruly heart wished quite deeply that their circumstances were different and he could tease and touch her as he longed to while they slowly got to know one another, unraveling each other's layers one by one. He knew that discovering and unwrapping Elizabeth would be far better than any present on Christmas morning.

Elizabeth felt a little tingle of fate as she slid the key into the lock and opened the door of what would be her home for an indefinite amount of time. The thought still floored her. She was here. This was real. She was living her fantasy…..with a man straight out of her dreams, her heart added, but she turned years' worth of experience of being sshhed on it.

Will followed her into the great room, flipping on the light switch, since he knew exactly where it would be. He continued to trail in her wake as she explored from room to room, illuminating the darkened spaces she walked into to, as she either didn't know the lights' locations or was too excited to bother looking.

"It's fully furnished," Will told her. "Jack always keeps it that way. It's sort of his 'guest room', to entertain friends and acquaintances who stop on extended visits."

"Does he have many?" she asked, searching down the hallway.

"Acquaintances? You'd be surprised how many people, from all distant corners, know Jack in one way or another – be it good or bad."

Elizabeth laughed, glancing over her shoulder at Will. "No, I wouldn't."

Will joined her in the hallway, hitting the light on the way through. When he was at her side, she enthused, "This is amazing, Will."

He smiled, but couldn't help pointing out, "It's just like mine."

"Well I really didn't have the chance to explore yours; I didn't want to intrude. And I've never had a place of my own before," she gushed. Looking around her, she sighed reverently, "My own apartment."

"Technically it's a condominium," he playfully amended, her happiness infectious.

"I don't care what it is, it's mine."

_For a time_, their minds reminded them in unison, but they both choice to ignore it.

"All that's left to see is the bedroom," Will said, indicating the open door straight ahead.

Elizabeth blushed a little, recalling her time spent in his. She still hadn't a firm grasp of memory over the events of the night before, but he hadn't mentioned anything untoward so she supposed she must have behaved herself well enough. Not that she was ordinarily brazen; she'd never had the opportunity to be. But inwardly she'd always known she would have an extreme proclivity towards audaciousness if ever set free….and here she was on a Caribbean island, quite at liberty.

She walked to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway, this time turning the light on herself. "It is like yours," she said absently as she observed the room, depositing her purse on the night table.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but you have to look at the skylights." He walked by her into the bedroom, careful not to brush against her as he passed; his body needed no further encouragement to want hers. "At night it's incredible."

"I hadn't even noticed it during the day," she replied, peering up in wonder at the three adjacent clear glass windows directly over the bed.

"They lift open too, but I wouldn't recommend it, mosquitoes and all," he shrugged. "But, if you turn off all the lights, when you lay in bed at night it's like a blanket of stars overhead."

"I'll remember that," she whispered as he walked back out, the edge of his hand just grazing her hip as he passed, setting off all sorts of feelings she'd never experienced outside of being lost in a book or film.

She followed Will into the kitchen, stopping before him as he leaned against the counter. "There's coffee in the fridge as well as some basic things to eat and drink; I had them see to it while we were out. And I can show you how the appliances work, for the morning," he offered, remembering her innocent interpretation of Jack's earlier conversation. "Or…..I could just come over tomorrow and help you use them," he added cautiously.

The thought of him coming over first thing in the morning was so good Elizabeth was exceedingly tempted to lie but, in the end, her independent streak won out. "I'm sure I'll manage. I learned to operate everything in the kitchen, as well as cook for myself, when I was just a child."

"Really? I hadn't pictured you as the domestic type."

When she saw the gentle smile on his face, she knew he was teasing her – and liked it too much for her own good…._Or maybe not_, a battle ragged inwardly. _Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to get involved with this man_…..But it would be temporary, and she didn't do temporary. It was all or nothing at all – which explained her problem with James. For her, it wasn't 'all', so she wanted it to be 'nothing', but her father kept insisting on 'all' even if she had to fake it.

She shook these thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to try to sort it all out, not while Will was standing there, watching her with a ridiculously attractive mixture of amusement and perplexity.

"I assure you, it wasn't out of any desire to be the traditional domestic female. Father says I'm just plain contrary. Princesses, or any women of 'high society', aren't supposed to know how to cook and such for themselves," she explained. "I was told I shouldn't, and so I did. It was as simple as that. And I didn't want to have to depend on others. Despite what some people in my life might want to believe, I'm not delicate and helpless."

"No, you're not that," he said, his eyes fastened on hers. She could feel the pull of them to a point that made her nervous. "So I'll take it you have everything fully in check."

"But you can still come over in the morning," she quickly demurred, afterwards adding, "if you'd like."

She wrapped her arms around her middle, looking distinctly vulnerable, especially in light of all she'd confessed. She was a strong woman, he saw that already, but part of her was hurting and it pained him to know.

"I would love to," he smiled, catching her gaze. "We'll have breakfast and talk about where to start with your firsts."

Elizabeth returned Will's smile, walking with him to the front door, where he paused, turning and wordlessly watching her.

There was no denying she felt an attraction between them. The question was, did he feel it too?

All at once, Will leaned toward her, inching closer, and her pulse quickened. "Good night, Elizabeth," he said softly, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently before departing out the door, leaving her fumbling for an explanation as to why she'd thought he might kiss her and, more importantly, why she felt so disappointed that he hadn't.

* * *

Elizabeth lay in bed that night, staring up through the skylights at the stars above and thinking of Will. Alone, in the dark of night, she could admit the truth to herself at least. Nothing in her life was how she wanted it – her title, her obligations, her restrictions and forced conformity, the way she was treated, even her father…..and James, perhaps especially James.

Losing herself in the stars' hypnotic glow, she let herself ponder what it would be like to be Will's girlfriend, _Will's_ fiancée……

For one thing, she could tell him whatever she wanted, whatever she was thinking or feeling, without the need to censor herself beforehand….For another thing, she would probably be lying there in his bed with him right now, instead of alone in hers. The thought elicited a low throaty giggle as she chewed her lip, further contemplating the possibilities.

She was surprised her mind so readily – and vividly – put herself in Will's bed. Granted, it was all imaginary and hypothetical, but there was never such a willingness where James was concerned – and unfortunately _he_ was her reality. Repeatedly, her heart had told her she was with the wrong man and now increasingly it whispered she had found the right one.

Before she knew what she was doing, Elizabeth found herself picking up her new phone and calling the number Will had personally programmed into it. She heard it ring once, then twice, and glanced at the bedside clock, which read eleven thirty-seven. Was it too late? Was he already asleep? Or had he gone out?

"Hello?" she heard him answer.

His voice through the phone sounded thick and gruff, but not displeased. Still she froze, instantly berating herself. What was she doing? Why had she called him?

"Elizabeth? Are you alright?"

Now she heard tender concern in his tone that went a long way toward putting her at ease.

"I'm fine, Will." Her reassurance was followed by a long silence.

When he'd heard his phone ring, Will assumed it was Jack. When he saw Elizabeth's name come up on the screen he'd been more than a little surprised – taken aback was more like it. He had only just been thinking of her, taking pleasure in the knowledge that she had lain in these same sheets – he purposefully hadn't changed –the night before, reveling in the fact that he could just catch a whisper of her scent on his pillow. And then she'd called….and it was like having the real thing there in his room with him.

"Couldn't sleep?" Will asked, grasping at whatever coherent conversation he could find.

"No," came her soft reply. "And I….I just…I wanted to clarify some of the things I said about my life. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Especially about my father."

"Al-alright." That hadn't been what Will expected to hear; but, then again, what had he expected? An invitation to come over? His wayward thoughts had free reign – and were running away with it – when she called, which must explain why he was still having difficulty with them now.

"Father isn't bad," Elizabeth continued, oblivious to Will's train of thought. "He isn't even mean to me, just the opposite. He _loves_ me, but….." She paused, letting the statement trail off. She had never said the words aloud, not even to herself, but Will had told her everything, from Jack's plan that wasn't, to his parents' divorce and his mother's death. She was moved by his honesty and she would give him no less. "He loves me. He just doesn't know _how_ to love me. He doesn't know _me_. He's never understood me."

Will's heart lurched at the sadness in her voice. "That's too bad," he softly sympathized. "You _are_ a complicated woman, but I think I'm beginning to understand you – or at least I'd like to try."

Elizabeth was moved by his words and further opened up to him. "Father hasn't, or maybe he _has_ tried; I don't know. But all my life it's left me conflicted over what to do, who I am, and who I should be." She sighed so deeply he heard it even through the phone. "Mainly what he wants and expects of me clashes with what _I_ want and hope for out of life. I don't want to hurt him or let him down, but at the same time I want to be myself and live for me. I can't help it – and I'm not sure it's something I _want_ to help. Which is why I ran away and I'm still here now……despite the fact that my father may or may not think I'm dead," she added with guilt plain in her tone.

"You don't _know_ that he thinks that. Besides complicated, you're an independent, very resourceful woman."

"Thank you."

"But it's true."

"For trying to cheer me up," she clarified, letting him know that she recognized and appreciated his efforts. "It's not that I _want_ him to suffer like that. I wish there was some way to let him know I'm okay and still live this fantasy, have this holiday. But there isn't. If he knew, he'd come get me immediately. And I just, I'm not ready. I have this dream – I've always had this dream – of living a normal life without all the restrictions, without needing to play the role of something I'm not. As far back as I can remember I've had this burning desire for freedom. Is that so wrong, Will?"

"No. It isn't. Not wrong at all, in fact," he answered her. "But have you told this to anyone else? Have you told them how you feel?"

She hesitated. "I've tried….but they're not exactly people you can _tell_ something to."

"You didn't seem to have much trouble telling me."

"But that's different. _You're_ different."

Will's lips formed a reflexive smile. "Am I?"

"Well…yes." Elizabeth was flustered now. He could tell even through the crackling silence of the phone. "You've been sweet and supportive and, as you said, understanding. I feel like I could tell you anything." She was instantly embarrassed at the admission. She was saying too much. Maybe this talking over the phone could be a dangerous thing. Without his dark chocolate eyes to hypnotize and silence her she was liable to blurt out anything.

Will was touched by what he knew was an indeliberate declaration. His tone was warmly amused, but sincere, when he answered, "You can."

…..But then there was always his voice to mesmerize her into silence. The softness of it got her every time…… "I should let you sleep," she finally managed.

"Don't worry about me. I like talking to you," he imparted. "And I'm a great listener. You can come to me anytime."

She'd said it was hard to tell things, important things, to people like that. What she meant was that they didn't listen. He wondered if that included her fiancé – but then why else the 'they'. She never spoke of him, never seemed to miss him. It was a shame. She deserved so much more.

At length, he said, suspiciously brightly, "But maybe we should get some sleep after all."

"And why is that?" she questioned carefully.

"I've got a surprise for you."

"I've always loved surprises."

"Perfect."

"…..Well? Aren't you going to tell me what it is?" she asked in response to his silence.

Will chuckled lightly, his low laughter in her ear warming her through the phone. "While we're waiting for you to come up with a list of firsts, I'll take you with me to live one of my own."

"Okay," she replied, his phrasing now leaving her absolutely certain that he had something up his sleeve. "…….Goodnight, Will."

"Sleep tight, Elizabeth." His playful voice rang in her ear long after they'd hung up.

Over in his cabana, Will gazed up at the nighttime sky. He didn't know what it was Elizabeth had done or how. He couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, but somehow she'd gotten to him. It was as if she'd cast a spell over him and he was powerless to stop it. She was already thoroughly and inextricably under his skin.

And, in the course of their phone conversation, his intentions toward her had undergone a drastic change. He'd told himself her would leave her alone. Despite the attraction he felt for her – and whatever else besides – he would show her kindness and friendship and nothing more, then, when she was ready, he would send her on her way, back to the arms of her fiancé. But that idea had slowly begun to dissolve when he realized how unhappy Elizabeth was and how very trapped she'd become in her own world.

It didn't matter that she was a princess and he was a struggling architect making a living as a shipwright, a respectable career but not exactly raking in the millions. It didn't matter that her fiancé could probably buy and sell him a thousand times over. _He_ could love Elizabeth better. She would be better off with him. He would cherish her, and listen to her, and love and adore her, more than that fool ever could. Norrington had his chance with Elizabeth and look at how he'd used it. She was miserable – unhappy enough to risk her life just for a chance to get away. Granted, maybe not _entirely_ from him, but she had admitted that she'd kept him in the dark about her whereabouts. That didn't exactly speak well to their relationship.

Of course, Will knew it would never happen for him. No matter how much better he was for her, he had no doubt that he could never convince Elizabeth of that – but he sure as hell was going to try. He wanted her and she needed him, even if she didn't realize it….yet. People kept letting her down, overlooking her. She deserved someone who would make her feel adored and appreciated, who would treasure her not as a prize to be owned, but a woman to be loved……Now if he could just show her the merits of _him_ being that someone.


	6. Sailing Uncharted Waters

~

* * *

I've tried so not to give in

I've said to myself this affair never will go so well

But why should I try to resist when baby I know damn well

I've got you under my skin

- C. Porter

* * *

As soon as Will woke up that morning, he knew his emotional resolution the night before had been insane. It was a mistake; it all was: squiring Elizabeth about the island, fulfilling a list of 'firsts' with her, making more memories together that would become harder and harder to forget, letting her – hell, _helping_ her – insinuate herself even further into his life. But yet there he was, flitting about from his cabana, over to the kitchen in the main body of the hotel, to the marina and back again, all the while knowing he was a fool and yet unable to stop himself, not even wanting to try.

And so finally, at a reasonable hour, he'd picked up the phone and called her, inviting her to his home for the breakfast he already had waiting.

Elizabeth had just finished drying her hair from the shower and was in the midst of what she had to admit was primping for Will's early morning visit when he had called. She questioned the change in plans, but he merely teased, "I would've come over to your place, but I figured at this stage in our relationship breakfast in bed would be a little premature."

Elizabeth assured him that, of course, she was not still in bed. Nevertheless, the thought of Will anywhere in its vicinity sped her heart and had her racing across the courtyard to his cabana – but not before stopping for one last turn before the mirror. She may be in a hurry to get to him, but at the very least she would look presentable.

Will met her at the door, both of them smiling like idiots at simply seeing one another again, and a rush of charged happiness filled the room as they sat down in his kitchen to devour the food.

After discussing throughout breakfast, and the cleanup process that followed, everything but what was foremost on Elizabeth's mouth, she couldn't wait a minute longer and finally blurted out, "Are you going to tell me what the surprise is?"

"Patience isn't your strongest virtue, is it?" Will laughed. "Alright I'll tell you. I'm taking you out sailing on my ketch. You've said how much you long for freedom, and I never feel freer than when out riding the ocean with her." Enthusiasm and pride shone bright in his eyes when he spoke of the vessel, but their excitement dimmed a bit as he added, "I realize it will be something of a letdown after what you've been cruising around on, but it does have a kind of connection to pirates I thought you might enjoy. I na – "

"Are you joking?" Elizabeth interrupted. "You mean that beautiful ship I saw is yours? And you really thought I'd be disappointed sailing on it? I'd _love_ to. I love _it_." Will grinned at her response as she continued to gush, "Father has his yachts, yes, but they're too big and impersonal. I've always wanted one exactly like yours but he would never allow it. He thought they were beneath him….In fact," she said, her face growing animated with realization, "I've never been out on one."

Will's grin deepened, catching on to her meaning. "An inadvertent 'first', but it will do."

"Which reminds me, you said this was a first for you. How so?"

He looked away sheepishly, at last nearly inaudibly divulging, "I've never brought a woman out on her before."

There were a handful of ways she could interpret that statement but, whether than delve any deeper, she simply said, "I'm honored."

"To tell you the truth, after I finished building her, I – "

"_You_ built that ship?" When he nodded in affirmation, she exclaimed, "Will, that's amazing. We have to go – now. I'm more anxious than ever to see it up close."

Elizabeth repeatedly marveled at his craftsmanship while they gathered their things and left Will's cabana. Her praise continued throughout their walk all the way down to the marina itself.

"But you've only seen her from afar. Maybe I'm not that good after all. For all you know she could be complete rubbish up close," Will self-effacingly deflected her admiration.

"Don't be so modest," she replied, her eyes glued in wonder to the ship of his creation moored at the end of the pier. "You're gifted, Will. Any fool can see you have incredible skills."

"I'm sure you do too," he shrugged.

She gave him a deadpan look. "In designing and building ships from nothing at all?"

"No," he laughingly conceded. "But in other things."

"I have my talents," she enigmatically agreed, giving him a sly little sideways glance.

Will wondered if he'd misread her or if she truly did mean something sexual, but then again his mind always seemed to drift that way whenever she was within touching distance.

Judging it best to change the subject, he replied, "Stay here a minute. I'll go get things ready."

He started to walk off down the docks, but Elizabeth stopped him, voicing her intention to help. When he declined, mildly insulted, she retorted, "Why? Because I'm a princess or because I'm a woman?"

Will sighed, smiling despite himself. "Neither….Because I have another surprise in store."

"Oh. Alright then," she clumsily backed off. The slight pink of embarrassment coloring her cheeks warmed him all over.

Giving her one last smile over his shoulder, Will walked down the pier and disappeared into the boat.

While Elizabeth waited for him to return, her eyes feasted on the lovely Caribbean shoreline – which successfully kept her mind from dwelling on her father and what he must be going through. Her triumphant distraction was soon aided by the dreadlocked man who silently crept up beside her, clearing his throat and making her jump.

"You scared me," she said breathlessly. "How do you manage to sneak up on a person like that?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said as if his mere identity made the answer obvious.

Elizabeth shook her head in bafflement, then focused her attention down the pier toward Will, who was just jumping back out onto the dock.

"So," Jack smirked, following her gaze, "did Will come over last night and help you to 'handle yourself', or were you still left to do it all by your onesies?"

She turned back to the exasperating man, ready to ask him why on earth he found it so difficult to believe she could navigate a simple condominium, when the off-color meaning of his remark sunk in. Her mouth snapped shut. With her mind now fully open to the perverse, all at once the hidden meaning of their last conversation hit her.

Looking back, her insistence that she could "_handle herself quite masterfully and to great success_" took on a whole new meaning, one the two men had clearly recognized though at the time she did not. Now no longer in the dark, she knew exactly what Jack meant when he'd offered his friend's assistance. "_I'm sure Will would be more than willing to come over and demonstrate the high points….He'll make a thorough sweep of the region for you – and would be happy to do it repeatedly if given the chance_," her mind recalled him saying. It also conjured an image of Will's flushed face and distracted eyes when he readily agreed to Jack's statements.

They had been speaking sexually of her the entire time and Will was clearly in on the joke. Which meant…..Will thought of her _that_ way? He wanted all those things? The realization should have made her angry. Instead a thrill shot through her, which was all the more disconcerting.

"Not that it's any of your business what I do, where, or with whom," Elizabeth coolly informed Jack, "but no. He did not."

"That's too bad," Jack sympathetically replied. Seeing his friend approaching them, he purposefully added, "But you know, 'Lizabeth, if Will refuses to show you a good time, I can always offer you _my_ services."

"_Really_?" she scoffed in disgust. "That's what you actually imagine? That my frustrated self will fall into your arms should his not be open. Tell me, what is it about that that appeals to you? Do you enjoy the idea of a princess lusting after you? Or is it simply that you can't bear the thought of a woman living and breathing in this world and not wanting you?"

Jack ignored Elizabeth's verbal barrage and looked meaningfully to his mate, who now stood directly behind her – though she was too incensed to notice. He hoped he got the message across loud and clear to Will, which was the entire reason he'd hit on her to begin with. Elizabeth seemed alright, or at least not in a murderous rage, if he suggested bawdy behavior between her and Will, but insert a different man into the scenario and she became offended and irate.

"A bit of both, I believe," Will answered for Jack, giving Elizabeth a wink when she twirled about to face him.

She mutely regarded Will in a new curious light, one he would have to be blind not to notice. He watched her watching him and wondered what she and Jack had discussed. He'd only been close enough to hear the tail end – Jack propositioning her in some manner or another, followed by her revolted refusal – neither of which surprised him too greatly. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said slowly. "No."

"Then let's go sailing," he responded, beckoning her to come with him as he turned back toward the pier.

Elizabeth set off after him, pausing for only a moment when she heard Jack whisper to her, "Ask him to take you to Tortuga." But she steadfastly ignored him and continued down the pier.

Will's ship, _The Flying Dutchman_, according to the script emblazoned on its side, was as beautiful up close as it was far away and did nothing to dispel her notions of his skill and talent, as he had modestly suggested. Words like 'astounded' and 'impressed' hardly did it justice. The man was a genius, and they were standing on a work of _his_ creation.

Will couldn't deny the sense of pride and gratification he felt in watching Elizabeth admire his handiwork. Still, he wanted her to relax and enjoy herself, not spend the day in worship of his craftsmanship.

"You can slip your shoes off," he told her, his eyes trailing down her long shapely legs, shown off to perfection in her white mini-skort and heeled scandals. "In fact, I'd recommend it. The deck can be slippery."

"Good," she answered. "I love going barefoot. I was never allowed as a child." She bent to remove the shoes, offering him a view far more appealing than any stretch of Caribbean sand and sea.

"You don't have to worry that I'll pressgang you into service," he said, hastily redirecting his gaze as she straightened. "The ship is set up for single handing – and I go out all the time, so I won't be drowning us," he teased, flashing a small smile that displayed a tantalizing hint of a dimple.

Will hustled about the boat, untying lines, unfastening sail covers, starting the engine, and generally preparing to make way. He'd put out cushions on all the benches and set chilled water on the small ledge nearby for Elizabeth to sit back and enjoy while he readied the boat, but a winning smile pulled at his lips when she suddenly appeared at his side. He'd known all the time she'd want to help rather than passively watch, so he gave her simple tasks to aid in the process and soon they were underway.

The moment they reached open waters, Will flipped a cleat and cranked the winch until the white sail majestically rose, setting high against the sky. He repeated the process with the second mast, and then cut the engine. Almost immediately, the wind took their sails and they were off, cruising the sea for a spell in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

To Elizabeth, it was almost a sensory overload. The sights, the sounds, the smell of the fresh sea air. The sun warming them overhead. The wind combing through her hair and caressing her cheeks. It was all perfection. No wonder Will went out so often. It was magical.

However, she thought, as her gaze shifted to the left, the sea and the sun could not compete with the man himself. He stood at the wheel just to her side, his eyes on the ocean, while she remained at the rail, surreptitiously relishing in how gorgeous he looked.

His unruly chocolate brown waves were pulled back, but thick curls had already fallen loose, giving him a fashionably messy look that set something off inside her. Rather like the baker's most scrumptious pastry, she took one look and had a sudden desperate craving for a taste. As if to add icing to the already delectable treat, Will had undone the first several buttons of his shirt, affording Elizabeth tantalizing glimpses of the taut, tanned skin and hard muscles beneath. She got the distinct impression that, were it not for her presence, he would have shed the shirt entirely – something she couldn't have welcomed more, though he could hardly know it.

While she preferred _he_ stay in the dark about her feelings, she was powerless to fight them. Ever since learning the true nature of Jack's conversation and the seemingly incontrovertible fact that Will, at the very least that once, considered her in a distinctly sexual light, Elizabeth couldn't help but think of him in the same manner – not that she hadn't been already, but it only served to intensify the problem.

This was a crush, merely an infatuation, she told herself as her eyes studied his strong body. She would simply have to ignore it, she further reasoned as she admired his long, dark lashes….lashes that shielded memorizing espresso eyes – which suddenly turned upon her.

"I – I know what you mean about freedom," she quickly covered, forcing herself to focus on her surroundings and not the man beside her. "It _is_ freeing being out her. Freeing and exciting and more than I ever dreamed. Thank you for sharing it with me."

Will felt her eyes upon him as solidly as a touch but when he'd turned to her, wondering what she thinking, this was the last thing he'd expected to hear. He had only just been thinking how lucky _he_ was – a nobody from a broken home, with a messed up childhood that had left scars still to this day – to have her here by his side. And now, there she was, thanking him. It seemed backwards and he wanted to tell her as much, but instead he simply said, "Your welcome." Changing the subject, he requested, "Tell me more about yourself."

"More?" she asked, her soft pursed lips curving into a smile. "I thought I already talked your ear off. Haven't you heard enough?"

"No."

His sincere desire to know more of her was flattering. So was the way he looked at her when he said it. At that moment she would have told him anything.

"Okay. What do you want to know?"

Will _wanted_ to know about her fiancé. Where he was, what he had done, just exactly what kind of a man would be fool enough to drive her away. And, most of all, he longed to know if Elizabeth really wasn't in love with the man, or if they'd merely had a fight. But he judged it best at this point to take a safer course.

"Tell me about your childhood."

She smiled, letting reminiscence wash over her and take control. "I was happier then. Everything was easier, less strict and confined. Of course I had my nannies, but I was spoiled and ridiculously indulged, especially after my mother passed. And," she said, the barest hint of wistful sadness creeping into her voice, "behaviors thought improper at twenty-six were much more acceptable as a child."

Will nodded, reading between the lines; she got away with more as a kid, and therefore was able to be more truly herself.

"I was a sort of tomboy and, believe it or not, was allowed to be – though my father did frown upon it. But I loved running around, having adventures, pirates and sailing, as you know. I must have dirtied hundreds of dresses and drove off handfuls of governesses. Then, when I got a little older," she added in conspiratorial amusement, "I did the same thing to handfuls of suitors. To my father's great dismay, I couldn't be bothered to think of boys or making a successful match. Up until at least the age of seventeen, all I wanted to do was runaway to sea."

Will watched Elizabeth as she talked, admiring everything he saw. Out here in the sun, her honey hair was like liquid gold and, beneath her lush lashes, her eyes sparkled with mischief as she described the misadventures of her youth. He wished he could've been there, wished he could have known her then. He would have been her one person to run to, the one to tell her it was all right to be true to herself.

And why shouldn't she be? She was perfect just as she was. Everything about Elizabeth fascinated him, intrigued and attracted him. But, as she smiled up at him, she was clearly ignorant of the effect she had upon him, an effect he refused to analyze. Not yet, not now, not when he knew he couldn't have her – but, oh, he certainly did want her.

"But these suitors," Will said, "one of them eventually caught up with you."

Her eyes instantly left his, fluttering first down to the deck and then out to the safety of the sea. "You mean James." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "How did you two meet?"

"He was a friend of my father's." Talk of her father immediately twisted guilt in her heart. He didn't deserve to suffer wondering about her whereabouts, but then again she deserved to live her own life. "I've known James for many years."

"Childhood sweethearts?"

"Not exactly," Elizabeth responded, the trace of a wry smile pulling at her lips. For the first time since the conversation veered down this path, she lifted her eyes back to Will. "When we met, I was twelve and James was twenty-four."

"So it's safe to say Jim's a little older then?" Will playfully rejoined, hoping to lighten the mood.

It worked. She laughed in soft amusement. "Yes, he is. Not ancient, mind you. I was nineteen when we started courting. He was thirty-one. Not exactly decrepit."

" 'Courting'? You really are trapped in another century, aren't you?"

She laughed again, the sound filling his senses. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it dating, not the modern concept of it anyway. It was all very civilized and proper, but the intentions, the outcome, were clear. He wished to marry me; my father wished it too. There was a type of courtship. I don't know how else to describe it."

Will thought it sounded awfully staid for two people supposedly desperately in love and soon to become eager newlyweds, but he left it alone, as an alternative simply stating, "Seven years."

"Hmm?

"Seven years. That's an awfully long time to be courting…..But," he gently probed, hoping to get the heart of the matter, "he eventually won you over?"

It would have been so easy to blame the situation on her father, say he pushed James upon her, and that was that. In truth, James _was_ her father's friend. Courtship and marriage between them _had_ been her father's idea and not her own. And, from the very beginning, it was clear what her answer was meant to be. But she was no pushover and not exactly a weak woman. She could have insisted on her way, could have flat-out refused the union. What could they really have done? No matter how backward their courtship traditions sounded even to her own ears, this wasn't the eighteenth century. No one could force her to marry someone she didn't want to. But there was her father, her family, her country to consider. In the end, James seemed as inoffensive a choice as any available to her. _She_ had relented. _She_ had consented. Responsibility for the decision lie with her.

"I accepted his proposal," she said evenly.

Elizabeth was poised. She had class. And this, Will discerned, was her dignified way of evading the question entirely. Which could only mean one thing: old Jim didn't exactly light her fire. It went a long way toward explaining why she was in no hurry to get back to him.

Will gave her a dubious look and so she further justified, "He's a good man, and it will be a good alliance, politically, economically, all around."

Will, at the risk of offending her, couldn't resist pointing out, "Yes, but it's not a business merger. It's a marriage."

"To my father, they're the same thing."

"And to you?" he asked, his eyes holding fast to hers, watching for the slightest change in expression.

Elizabeth took a deep, cleansing breath, wishing desperately to change the subject. Finally she gave in and revealed, "To me, marriage is about passion and unconditional, abiding love."

Will thought that an inscrutable statement. It was impossible to say whether she meant that she longed for such things within a marriage or that she had already found at least some of them with her fiancé, else she would not have agreed to the engagement in the first place.

He wanted to probe further, but Elizabeth had her own ideas. In her opinion, it was high time the focus shifted in this conversation. "Alright," she said. "It's _my_ turn."

"At the wheel?" he asked, his mind still digesting the new information she'd revealed.

"No," she laughed. "That's not what I meant." However, her face shone at the notion. "But….maybe later….if it's alright with you…..She _is_ your baby, and a magnificent one at that," she said, softly stroking the hard body of the ship.

Will gazed at her, enthralled. With excitement lighting her eyes and a soft smile on her pouted lips, she gently stroked the ship's side the way a mother would delicately caress her babe's face – and she was unspeakably desirable without even knowing it.

Finished with her doting, Elizabeth looked up at him. "What I meant was that it's my turn to ask _you_ questions," she clarified, thinking perhaps his mistaking her meaning was to account for his odd hesitation.

"Okay," he answered, recovering his focus to lean casually against the wheel. "Shoot."

"Alright. What about you, Will? Do you have a girlfriend? A fiancée? Is there a woman in your life?"

So she was getting down to brass tacks too. Out of curiosity or interest, he couldn't be sure, but his mind reasoned it must be the latter. "No. No fiancée. No girlfriends."

It was the plural that got her. _Right now_, she could believe. _Ever_, now that made the story implausible. "Never?" she asked, her eyebrow sardonically quirking. "You've _never_ had a girlfriend. You're some kind of a monk then?"

"There have been acquaintances who've come and gone."

That seemed more the truth of it. "They have, or _you_ have?" Elizabeth irreverently questioned.

She was mocking him and his first instinct was to take an immediate defensive position. She didn't know, couldn't understand why he behaved the way he did, what was at stake. She hadn't seen what he had. As a little boy, he'd been sure of little else beyond the fact that he would never be the cause of such pain, no matter what lengths he had to go to ensure it.

Still, he was only human and couldn't deny that, from time to time, he accepted casual female company. But he was upfront. He was honest. They knew in advance what to expect. Perhaps on the outside that made him seem cold and unemotional, but he was just the opposite – which was the very motivation for his distance. It was these same characteristics, however, that never allowed him to feel good about it afterwards – which was why his encounters with woman were not nearly as frequent as everyone seemed to think. In fact, by modern standards, he was far from a lothario. He certainly wouldn't be trying out for _The Bachelor_ anytime soon. That was Jack's thing….But no, on second thought, _Rock of Love_ was more his style.

"I'll lay it on the line," Will told her candidly. "I've never been engaged. Never had a steady girlfriend – or _any_ kind of a girlfriend, not by standard definition. Have there been women in my life? Sure, a few; not a crowd, a few. But it was always a temporary situation."

Her voice all sudden illumination, she breathed, "Oh." The one simple syllable was laced with meaning. "You're _that_ guy. Somehow I didn't see you as the type."

It was a provoking thing to say, leaving Will with no other choice but to ask, "What type?"

"Nothing," she said, but the teasing bite in her eyes let him know it was, in fact, far from nothing. "It just must be brutal when you kick them out the next morning. You can be quite charming, you know. Despite what you tell them to the contrary, the poor things probably never see it coming."

All else fell away from that statement, but the one part that truly mattered. "You think I'm charming?"

"Right now? No. And you're avoiding the issue."

"I'm not." He sighed heavily, much preferring to further examine her acknowledgement of his charms than explain his dating history, but he could see she wasn't going to let this go. "Look, I just – I'm _honest_ with them. They know up front I'm not looking for…" He waved his hand transiently, searching for words to convey his meaning. "….forever, and happily ever after with them. If they still want to hang out, have some fun, that's great. If not, then we go our separate ways."

Elizabeth finished with the next words she knew he was about to say. "And no one gets hurt."

"Absolutely."

It seemed overly simplistic to her – saying you want only fun and meaning it were two different things – and, really, just plain sad. But she let it go. Nevertheless, the look on her face, unintentional as it was, must have said it all.

"I may not be a saint, but," he continued emphatically, "I've _never_ broken any hearts. That's what the rules are for."

She turned shrewd eyes on him. "What rules?"

Will felt his stomach drop. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but now there was no getting around it. "…..The rules I have about women."

"Meaning?"

Though he knew this wouldn't go over well, turning back now was not an option so he might as well dive in head first. "No meeting friends, no special events. They never come to my home, and I never stay over at theirs. I give them absolutely no reason to think it's anything other than what it is."

"Wow," she pertly replied. "They must feel special."

He resisted pointing out the entire aim was that they _didn't_. He was a generous lover. He saw to it that a good time was had by all, but it was sex and nothing more. Had he been stronger, he would have left woman alone entirely until he found that one he knew would mean forever. But living out his adolescence with his father, Jack, and the other sailors and dock-rats wasn't exactly an environment conducive to restraint. At seventeen, one month after his father passed, hurt and angry, he finally gave in to temptation; it was like opening Pandora's Box. That's when he devised his rules. He did his best to maintain integrity, but somewhere deep inside Will wasn't proud of his actions, of his upbringing, or of himself.

"You can see now why I prefer to sail alone," was his quiet response.

Elizabeth couldn't figure Will out for the life of her. Though he defended himself, his very words portrayed him as a type of womanizer. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, as he insisted the woman knew what they were getting into from the start – casual sex and nothing more. Still a man who went to such lengths to avoid commitment sent up all sorts of red flags. But somehow she couldn't believe he was truly the sort of man who was that terrified of ties, strings, and responsibility. Everything about him screamed the opposite. There must be something more in what he was saying, in what he was _not_ saying.

For a while they sailed on in silence, until Will turned to Elizabeth and slowly smiled. "Parlay?"

She laughed softly. "I wasn't aware we were at battle." Who was she to judge him after all? Look at her own actions over the past few days. Returning his smile, she suggested, "How about my turn at the wheel now?" To underscore her point, she took a step closer to the helm.

"I…don't know," Will answered. Mischief burned bright in his eyes as he voiced the one statement he was certain would rile her. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

Elizabeth knew, in this case, he meant the ship alone, _and_ she knew he meant to playfully taunt her, expecting a jab in return. But she couldn't even summon the will to pretend effrontery. His words had brought to mind their other conversation and all the sexual overtones she'd only recently realized had been there – ones that unnerved her and made her want things that simply were not possible.

Still, she inched closer to him as she said, "You promised."

"Did I?" he continued the game. "I don't recall."

Elizabeth stopped beside him, laying her hand over his where it rested on the wheel. "Please, Will."

It was then he saw the true danger he was in. When she tried, when she really tried, he was powerless to resist her. And so he acquiesced, making room for her at the controls and handing over the wheel. Nevertheless, she was an admitted novice, so he stood directly behind her to offer his guidance.

With Elizabeth at the helm, the boat cut through the waters, joyously dancing over the waves, and she'd never felt more free in her entire life. "This is amazing," she exclaimed into the wind. "I'm steering a ship – a pirate ship!" In the warm sun, with Will nearby, it was her turn to let a subconscious thought slip out. "_This_ is freedom."

Her enthusiasm was contagious but, in her utter abandon, she was too loose a hand at the helm and they were drifting off course. "You're a little too free," Will softly laughed as he stepped closer into her, reaching around her shoulder to guide her hand against the wheel. "Here, you need to have a firmer grip," he said, flashing that lethal grin that did wicked things to her.

His hand lingered on hers to ensure she had the proper hold. As independent and driven as she was, any other time in her life her entire focus would have been on showing him she could correctly maneuver the ship. But at the moment her awareness was wholly centered on his warm, hard body pressed against her back, his muscled forearm brushing over hers, and the palpable chemistry that passed between them as he held her hand at the wheel.

She needed to regain control of herself, at least try to explain her embarrassing blunder at the helm….But it was nearly impossible to think with him so close. "I'm – I'm sorry….I didn't mean to be – "

At that moment she turned her head to face him and the words arrested in her throat. He'd been looking down at her and, now that she'd tilted her neck back, they were face to face, their mouths mere inches apart.

An intriguing light burned in his eyes. His breath was warm and soft against her cheek. And she couldn't help it. It was like a force beyond her, drawing her to him, compelling her gaze to his lips, making her want –

Clearing his throat, Will abruptly stepped away and announced, "I think now would be a good time for lunch."

Elizabeth was taken off-guard a moment, feeling the loss of his nearness immeasurably. "Yes," she finally managed, relinquishing the wheel to him. "Yes, I think so too." They had been sailing the coastline for nearly two hours and now was a good a time as any to break for a meal, but she wondered how she was going to concentrate on eating when her hunger lie elsewhere.

Will set out heaving to, then disappeared below deck, reemerging a minute later with a picnic basket brimming with goodies. "Part of my surprise," he explained as he spread a blanket out on deck for them and motioned for her to sit. Laying out the bounty before them, he confessed, "I spent the morning raiding the hotel kitchen." Smiling, Elizabeth nestled down beside him, grabbing a piece of fruit and thinking she'd never known a more perfect day.

They flirted their way through lunch, and it was a dangerous game as flirting was far from necessary to let Elizabeth know she liked him; she was already well acquainted with the fact, and open flirtation only made her want him all the more. Will was warm, sweet, intelligent, irreverently funny, yet with a depth she was only beginning to understand.

She watched him clear away the rubbish, then stretch and stand with his arms across his chest surveying the sun, sand, and ocean he loved…..and she was sure she could be quite happy here with him for a lifetime. If only that were an option. She was pulled from her daydream by his announcement that they would soon get on their way again.

Elizabeth rose to her feet, busying herself with folding the blanket, and letting Will take the helm with no further attempts on her part to share the controls. There was no sense sailing into those treacherous, uncharted waters again.

They had been actively sailing for twelve minutes when she heard the rurring vibration of Will's BlackBerry emanating from somewhere on his person. She watched him retrieve the phone from the pocket of his shorts and skim through the apparent text message.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, hoping their day of sailing hadn't been dashed. She wasn't ready to go in just yet.

"No. It can wait," he answered, turning the device off before stowing it back in his pocket.

Something in his features told her there was more to it than that, but she was too pleased to have him to herself awhile longer to argue.

Another hour of sailing brought them back to familiar sites, and Elizabeth concluded that they must have made a full circle of the island. It was then, off in the distance, she noticed for the first time a tiny speck of an island. It must have been, she estimated, about a ten minute boat ride from the Black Pearl, which she could also now make out on the far shore. "What's that teeny little island?" she asked him, pointing it out. "I don't remembering seeing it before."

Will gave her an odd smile as he answered, "_That_ is Tortuga."

She'd heard Tortuga mentioned multiple times during her stay at the Pearl and her curiosity was definitely piqued. "Just what exactly is Tortuga?"

"Tortuga," Will revealed, his expression still inwardly amused, "is Jack's Shangri-la. His private little island."

"He owns it? The entire island?"

Will nodded. "Yes, all of it. But, as you can see, it's minuscule. There's a beach house, a pool, and a gorgeous bit of shoreline, but that's about it. Accommodations for two and nothing more, not at all like the resort."

"But the Black Pearl has beautiful beaches, and rooms, _and_ pools. With all that, why did he need another place to escape to?" Elizabeth asked in confusion. "And why would he buy an entire island just for that purpose?"

"He didn't," Will corrected. "He didn't buy any of it, in fact…..Have I ever mentioned Barbossa?"

"Mmm-Mmm," she shook her head.

"He's another entrepreneur on the island, older than Jack and here first, his main competitor actually."

"They're both in tourism?"

"Barbossa owns a resort on the other side of town, The Endeavour," Will explained. "It's not nearly as large, built-up or, for lack of a better word, 'nice' as the Black Pearl. He's fighting a losing battle with Jack and he knows it. It makes him all the more cutthroat – in business and otherwise. And what adds salt to the wound is that all of it, everything the Black Pearl sits on, used to be his."

"Barbossa's?" Elizabeth asked in surprise, the story growing more and more interesting.

"Yep. It was nothing but undeveloped land back then, but Jack saw its potential."

She was fascinated. "And so….how did he get it? You said he didn't buy it."

"He won it," Will laughed, "all of it, in a Liar's Dice game. The entire property the Black Pearl sits on, plus some more to the west of our cabanas that's yet unused…as well as the little island he named Tortuga."

"Oh," Elizabeth giggled, sharing his amusement. "Barbossa must have been livid."

"He was then, but it's only grown as he saw what Jack's turned it all into. Once Jack received the deed to the land, the two of us mapped out the plans for the Pearl and made it into what it is today. Tortuga, however, was Jack's idea entirely – though I have to admit I helped him draw up the blueprints."

"And what is so special about Tortuga that makes everyone allude to it so often?" she questioned. "I mean, I understand the reference, but what makes Jack's Tortuga so unique?

"Just like the Tortuga of old, Jack built it as a haven of debauchery. It's his idea of the ultimate bachelor pad, designed and engineered for decadence, romance, and seduction. And," Will added, only half in jest, "housed on an island, so there's literally nowhere to run."

"Nice," she rejoined, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"But they never want to," he set her at ease. "It's close quarters, designed for enticement. There's little chance of evasion. And, with such seclusion, absolutely no distractions. There's no mistaking Tortuga's purpose. It's a lover's destination. People only go there for one reason."

Then, in a flash, she remembered Jack's whispered suggestion. _"Ask Will to take you to Tortuga"_. She didn't know which she should find more insulting, Jack's idea that she would agree to go there at all, or the notion that _she_ would be the one to do the asking….Still, the prospect was frighteningly appealing….until she realized that Jack's very assumption of their destination must mean it was a favored route of Will's. At this, Elizabeth fumed, she was sickened to discover, with jealously not anger.

"So this lover's destination," she frostily inquired, "this paradise island of free flowing booze and even freer sex, do _you_ take many women there?"

Will wondered if her outrage and thinly veiled fury was for womankind in general or for herself in particular. Consideration of the later, that she might actually feel resentful at the thought of him engaging in fictitious romps with random women in Tortuga, caused his heart to kick up. "No," he answered her guilelessly. "I don't."

She laughed acerbically. "Right. I'm sure."

Will paused to catch her eye. "Not even one."

A further caustic retort was on the tip of her tongue but, when Will's gaze caught and held hers she saw unmistakable sincerity in it. "You're serious," she realized aloud. "Well you….uh," she hurried on, attempting nonchalance. "It – it stands to reason you must take your…'acquaintances' somewhere. I can't think of a better setting than an island paradise."

"The setting is just the problem."

She was momentarily perplexed, but then understanding dawned: there was no way out. He would be trapped there with the woman on the island of amore. That was bound to conjure up all sorts of feelings he meant to dodge. Jack's treasure, it seemed, was Will's nightmare.

"Too much romance. So you're _that_ kind of guy," Elizabeth impertinently countered. "The one who's just looking for a good time, who swears against any kind of a meaningful attachment. Too much romance is too close to love, which you wouldn't like?"

She was misunderstanding him entirely. It wasn't about avoiding love. It was about precluding the impression of what simply didn't exist. It was about avoiding at all costs becoming his father. "No, not that either. I'm not against love, not at all. In fact, I know you probably think this is total BS, but the problem is I believe in love _too_ much. I mean, flowers, soft candlelight, romantic music, moonlit beaches, that's great in the movies – in real life too, if you've found the right person. But if the girl you're with isn't 'the one', and you know that, then all those things seem fake, phony, completely counterfeit…..I don't know," he shrugged. "It is what it is. You shouldn't dress it up as something more. That isn't fair to anyone."

Oddly, Elizabeth found honor in his statement. However it still sounded a little too much like he didn't believe in the existence of love at all. "But sometimes it is real. It _can_ be."

Will realized then that she must think he was taking swipes at her relationship. As much as he wanted her all to himself, he knew that wasn't the route to go and it certainly hadn't been his intention. "No, I know. I – I'm sorry." Still, he would guess his statement perfectly described Elizabeth's relationship with her fiancé. Perhaps he could get her to admit as much…. "I'm sure it's not like that with you and Jim."

"….Uh, right…..Of course not." James had been the furthest thing from her mind when she came to love's defense, but it couldn't be good to let Will know just what _had_ been.

"That's why this is meant to be, me finding you," Will asserted. "We'll be good for each other. You can teach me about love – real love, not just sex, and not only in the movies – and I'll teach you what it's like to be free. It's a win-win situation," he said, his eyes locking with hers.

The way he looked at her set butterflies to blossom in his stomach. "I'm not sure I know all that much about love," Elizabeth admitted.

"And here you are on the verge of marriage," he teasingly replied. "If you don't know, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

_We could learn together_, she thought. She said instead, "But you do know about freedom, all the things I've missed?"

"That I know."

Elizabeth was the first to look away, unable to hold his gaze a moment longer without saying or doing something she was sure she'd later regret.

Will allowed her the time with her thoughts, and they both looked on in stillness as Tortuga and the Black Pearl slowly became discernible hunks of land and not mere dots on the horizon.

It was then that she turned to him and asked, "Why the _Flying Dutchman_? I see the pirate connection, but I also see you put a tremendous amount of time and care into everything that's a part of this ship. I know there must be a further meaning to her name as well."

"You're right," Will acknowledged. "I could've picked any pirate vessel, real or imaginary, to name her after. I chose the _Dutchman_ because of the legend behind it."

"You mean Wagner's opera," Elizabeth supplied.

"Yes." He was incongruously pleased that she was familiar with the story he felt such a connection to. "A man doomed to sail the ocean alone, forever."

"Interesting comparison," she astutely stated, "considering the original _Dutchman_'s captain was a tortured soul."

For a moment Will was quiet, neither denying nor confirming the assertion, and nothing but a gull crying out overhead broke the silence. Then, at length, he answered, "He was destined to sail the seas alone, perhaps encountering a woman every seven years or so. Jack thought it was appropriate to my situation."

"Then Jack's an idiot," she flatly responded.

"I don't know," Will countered. "At times, I feel the story is rather fitting."

"You believe it describes you?" she pinned him down.

He hesitated only a fraction of a second before replying, "I do."

Elizabeth smiled. "That's _very_ telling, considering the opera's central theme is salvation through love. When the Dutchman at last encounters a woman who gives him her undying love and fidelity, he's set free from his imprisonment, released from his purgatory, and together they're transported to nirvana."

Just then the wind caught a strand of her hair, blowing it gently against her cheek. The fluttering lock mesmerized him as it teased her soft skin, skittering across her cheekbone, flickering over her jaw, dancing across her full lips. Never before had Will more fully believed in the opera and everything it proclaimed. Since his mother's death, he had been living in a self-imposed purgatory, and he knew as surely as the sun rose and set that Elizabeth could be the woman to set him free.

"That you feel it describes you," she continued, "well, one could read all sorts of meaning into that."

Her words barely registered he was so absorbed by that blowing wisp of hair, so lost in its light sweep across her features, longing to repeat its path with his fingertips. She was so unspeakably alluring, he found he couldn't help himself. Reaching out, he gently brushed it back away from her face, his fingers grazing her cheek in the process.

Her heart skittered at the soft, simple contact and the way his hand lingered, teasing the long loose curl, finally winding it around his finger. Her hair still twined about his middle finger and thumb, he looked down at her, his eyes glittering with something unnamable. Whatever it was, she was susceptible.

It would not do to fall in love with this man. For dozens of reasons, it would not do at all. Yet it was hopeless to deny the growing tenderness between them, a tenderness she neither wished to ignore or refuse. But there was no time to explore it further now. They were too quickly approaching shore.

The next several minutes were occupied with bringing the boat properly into anchor. However, even after she was securely moored and fastened, neither made a move to quit the ship.

Beneath the hot sun, slowing sliding ever lower in the late afternoon sky, Will relaxed against the transom, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth, taking her in from head to toe. Her long, lean amply displayed legs still fascinated him, but the soft curve of her hips and the gentle rise of her bosom equally drew him in.

She felt warmth spread from her core beneath his perusing gaze – and she liked the feeling – but for the life of her she couldn't think of a single appropriate thing to say.

Then he gave her a teasing smile. "So you think I'm charming?"

Elizabeth set her hands at her hips, causing her navy tank to pull taut across her chest, highlighting her breasts to perfection and momentarily attracting his gaze. But she seemed not to notice, fixing him with an adorably haughty look. "I think you're a liar," she cheekily retorted, joining him in leaning back against the stern.

He straightened, turning to stand before her. Giving her a long measured look, he replied, "I've never lied to you."

"I think you're lying to yourself. All this avoiding closeness, 'sail the seas alone forever' nonsense."

Will placed his hand against the back of the ship behind Elizabeth, his eyes soft and enticing as he leaned in toward her, his nearness awakening all sorts of delicious feelings in her. "I'm not avoiding _you_," her whispered.

Her body was so close to his, in some places mere centimeters away. It set a cascade of barely constrained sensations vibrating through him; he wanted to touch her and taste her, and he could do neither one. With his free hand, he reached over and took hers. Bringing their joined hands up between them, he settled for merely playing with her fingertips.

The touch, simple as it was, sent an inappropriate response rocketing through her.

"If I _am_ dishonest with myself," Will answered her accusation, all the while his forefinger trailing the length of hers, seductively stroking the tender skin between them, "so are you."

She was growing progressively hypnotized by the slow movement of his fingers against hers, but she held his gaze unremitting as she answered, "Then we're both liars."

"We're pirates," he said before releasing her hand and stepping back away from her.

For a breathless moment she stood there immobilized. Then she too followed him about the deck, collecting their things.

As Will helped Elizabeth back up onto the pier, he took her hand again, this time not letting go. It was like completing an electrical circuit; she could feel the spark tingling up her arm from all the places his hand touched hers.

Yes, she was definitely attracted to him, and she suspected he felt it too. But, if so, was it something special, the way it was for her, or was it merely physical to him, just another companion to have a good time with?

Will started out down the dock, gently grasping her hand, but she held back, bringing his eyes instantly to hers. "What's the matter?" he asked, wondering belatedly if his forwardness back on the boat had offended her. But she didn't seem offended then; she still didn't now, just….curious.

"If you…." Elizabeth paused looking at him searchingly. "….If you ever met the right woman, the Dutchman's Senta, you would take _her_ to Tortuga?"

"The right woman?" She silently nodded. "Yes," he softly told her. "Absolutely. With the right woman, I'd want it all – romance, love….the whole package."

She seemed pleased with his answer, and the two continued hand in hand back up the pier and toward home.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Will found himself alone with his thoughts in his cabana. While he was getting a better picture of the situation, one that seemed to indicate Elizabeth's heart was not taken, he was no fool. He knew this new information did nothing to improve his chances. If anything, it illuminated how dismal they were. If she was willing to marry a man she wasn't in love with simply for his rank and suitability she would never show interest in someone like him. He ought to run now while the getting was good.

But the simple hard fact was, with Elizabeth, everything was different, everything had changed. He wasn't trying to maintain emotional distance from her, yet he still firmly believed in the meaning and weight behind his rules. So what did that say about his feelings for her? Too much. Which was why he hadn't been ready to analyze them earlier in the day……but he knew. He knew that already he liked her far too much.

Since he first found Elizabeth on the pier, they had spent literally every waking moment together, not exactly a wise course of action if he wanted to prevent her from sinking even deeper into his heart. And why, he lamented, should it pick now of all times to suddenly stand up and take notice? He had never had a woman aboard the _Dutchman_ before; he'd never wanted to. Jack was the only other soul who'd ever been aboard, and even that was a rarity. Will preferred to sail alone; as he'd tried to explain to her, it was a metaphor of his life….or so he'd thought.

Now everything he considered, every last idea he contemplated, was couched in the terms of 'How would Elizabeth like that? What would she think of it?'. He was in trouble and he was in deep, but he chose to ignore the warnings – although perhaps 'chose' wasn't exactly the word; he doubted he could've stopped himself even if he'd wanted to. Maybe he had at last found his Senta.

And it would have been okay. It all would have been fantastic if Elizabeth wasn't who she was. He'd told himself all of his life to never let his guard down, never break his rules unless he was completely sure, one thousand percent willing to stay. And here was the 'unless' smacking him right in the face. For once, his rules didn't apply. He really did like her, more than any other woman he'd ever known, and he could happily, vividly see himself with her – in her bed, in her life, forever. If truth be told, he already wanted, was entirely ready, for a committed relationship with her.

Yet it couldn't be that simple, not for him anyway. Standing there in his bedroom, looking out to the beach beyond, the irony of the situation hit him full force. His much touted rules were foolish, and needless where Elizabeth was concerned. She was in no danger from him. There was no risk of her falling, him leaving, and her hurting because – regardless of his feelings and the fact he wouldn't ever leave her in the first place – she would never in a million years be truly interested in him. But, in all of his careful planning, he'd naively failed to consider what would happen if _he_ was not the one who would be leaving. He knew the same terrible consequences would apply, only in reverse, but he wouldn't allow himself to think of that now. At least this way it was only his own self that stood to get hurt.

This wasn't going to end well; it couldn't, not for him. He knew that, and yet he couldn't walk away…..But maybe it could end well for _her_. She would finally know what it felt like to be loved fully, for herself, exactly as she was – no apologizes and no repression. And at least he could have her for a little while....maybe...if she'd let him. He was going to do his damndest to see that she did.

* * *

Across the way, in her own cabana, Elizabeth's thoughts were fixed on Will, on all that he'd told her and all that had happened that day. There must be a reason he maintained such emotional distance from women, and she doubted it had anything to do with self-preservation. From the moment she'd met him, Will was the very definition of altruistic. The way he cared for his friends like they were family. The way he'd taken her, a virtual stranger, into his life and home. He was easily the warmest and most selfless person she had ever known.

Pondering all this, she was stroke with a moment of blinding insight. She realized, whatever the reason behind those walls he built, they had less to do with keeping people out then safeguarding _others_ from what was inside. Will's ridiculous, downright insulting rules were his personal warning sign, his own human version of "Beware of Dog". That way any woman fool enough to try to scale his walls couldn't be at all surprised if she wound up getting bit. The question that remained was, why on earth did Will think himself so dangerous?

Although perhaps the real quandary ought to have been, regardless of the mysterious deep-seated reason behind it, why Elizabeth wanted so badly to be the one to break past Will's wall. Her concern, her conscience chided, should lie with her father, who could only be sitting somewhere in utter agony, thinking her surely dead. Her priority should be contacting him and letting him know the truth – and dealing with the aftermath of entering into an engagement she never should have accepted in the first place.

The situation with Will was impossible, no matter what her heart increasingly wished to the contrary. He had made his outlook on a long-term relationship, or any kind of a relationship, abundantly clear. The odds were not in her favor there. In fact, it was more like walking into an open minefield. She wanted him but, like most things she longed for, he was unattainable – because of her father, because of James, because she couldn't put her own heart at such risk.

And yet Elizabeth found herself shoving all that to the back of her mind and dressing for another evening adventure with Will. The heart wanted what it wanted and, for the first time in her life, she couldn't – and wouldn't – deny it. Besides, she'd just thought of a "First" to accomplish tonight, one that would no doubt frighten her ever chivalrous rescuer witless.


	7. Under Lock and Key

~

* * *

I don't know what I'm diving into

Just hanging by a moment here with you

- J. Wade

* * *

Will walked with and Elizabeth through the Black Pearl's main lobby, on his way to help her accomplish the 'first' she still refused to disclose. He'd changed from his sailing clothes into dark slacks and a midnight blue Henley and, as Elizabeth appreciatively noted, all of its three buttons were left undone due to the lingering heat of the day.

She too had slightly altered her outfit but, to Will's delight, her bare legs were still gloriously on display as she'd kept on that provocatively short skort – probably because she was running out of clothes to wear or funds to buy more, though all she need do was ask. Still, she'd managed to make the outfit look entirely fresh and new by pairing it with a breezy lavender blouse that dipped just low enough to make a man yearn to see what was beneath. And that same gold chain was around her neck, whatever hung at its end vanishing below the fabric. He made a mental note to ask her sometime what its significance was, but then again maybe it was as innocuous as the black cord he always wore, simply displaying trinkets he'd obtained here and there throughout his lifetime. Nevertheless, he _was_ curious what lie at its end. However, at the moment, he was more interested in knowing what mysterious 'first' she had planned for tonight.

He was preparing to probe Elizabeth further, but her attention was otherwise captured when she saw Anamaria sitting at a nearby table.

"Hi, Anna," she called, hurrying ahead of Will to great the woman.

"Hey, Elizabeth," Anna replied. She spared a quick glance toward Will, who'd caught up, sticking tenaciously to Elizabeth's side and looking, in Anna's opinion, somewhat put out at having to share her. The thought amused Anna. Normally Will avoided women like the plague, in a sweet gentlemanly manner of course, but brushing them off all the same – including those he'd slept with. Now here he was apparently wanting this one all to himself, and she was certain they hadn't even gotten to first base. The irony of it didn't escape her. "Did you tell him what you have planned for tonight?" As protective as he seemed to be of Elizabeth, he was just going to love it.

"No, not yet," Elizabeth impishly answered. "I'll let you know how it goes." She took Will's arm and led him through the rest of the lobby before he could respond.

"What was that all about?" Will asked suspiciously. "And when did you two become such good friends? _We're_ together nearly all of the time and on the phone when we're not."

She abruptly turned to face him. "Is that a complaint?"

"Not on your life," he said, holding her gaze. Elizabeth smiled at that. "I just wondered when you found the time to become close."

"We talk sometimes, Anna and I, when you're with Jack or when we see each other in passing. But don't worry. She doesn't know me like you do. _You're_ still my favorite," she playfully simpered. "Why? Do you think she'll be a bad influence on me?"

"With your track record, it ought to be the other way around," he teased.

She scoffed, feigning insult. "I'm offended."

"Running away in the middle of the night; jumping off ships; taking on assumed identities, Elizabeth _Reed_ ……having weird pirate fetishes….Need I go on?"

"No, please don't," Elizabeth laughed.

"Aren't you going to tell me what we're doing tonight?" Will questioned as they stepped outside. "I at least have to know where we're going."

"Into town," she smartly answered, enjoying the secret she held.

"Okay. Fine," he said patiently. He was about to unleash a surprise of his own. "But this time we drive," he added, directing her over to his ride.

Parked beside the tour buses and few rental cars was a classic black and white Lambretta. "It's a 1967 model, fully restored. I did the work myself, so it's kind of my baby – well, my other baby," he corrected with a smile, remembering her reference to the _Dutchman_.

Elizabeth let go of his arm to circle the motor scooter. "Wow. It's in excellent condition. And you did this all yourself? Will, you're amazing."

"Not really," he shrugged. "They're quite the thing around here. The island's so small no one really needs a full-size car. And retro's been the rage. Everyone around town knows how to do the restoration and work on the engines. It's just an acquired skill I picked up since I moved here."

"Still," Elizabeth said, not letting him avoid the praise, as he always wished to do. "You keep it in perfect shape. Not everyone would have that kind of patience or dedication. I think it says a lot about who you are." All at once, she pushed him toward the bike, eager for a ride. "Well, let's go."

"I have to know where I'm going," Will wryly pointed out.

"Just drive into the center of town. I'm sure I can find a place after that."

Will gave her a distrustful look but appeared to agree, picking up the helmet from its handle and mounting the bike. "I've only got one helmet, so it's all yours."

"What about you?" she asked.

"Your safety is first." He said it as if she'd be foolish to suggest anything else. When she continued to stubbornly eye him, he asked, "Is this really a point you want to argue on? You know I'm going to win."

He had her there. She may be willful, but she'd come to learn he could be equally so in matters of her comfort, protection, and wellbeing. "Alright," she gave in, climbing onto the Lambretta behind him.

The seat was barely long enough for them both and required they sit quite closely. The proximity seemed to immediately increase the night's already warm temperature. Pivoting on the seat, Will turned to Elizabeth and placed the helmet over her tousled waves and then he smiled.

"I must look ridiculous," she said self-consciously.

"You look beautiful." They shared a long moment before Will finally released her gaze and readied the bike. "Have you ever ridden one of these before?"

"No," she said over the engine.

"You'll have to get in close and hang on to me, like this," he instructed, taking hold of her arms and wrapping them around his waist.

He hadn't meant anything by it other than that she didn't fall off the bike, but her arms wrapped low around him, her soft little hands on his abs even through his shirt felt so good he had to choke down a moan. This was going to be some ride, he thought, taking off.

Elizabeth clutched Will tightly as they went zipping away from the Black Pearl, holding herself stiff and erect, but she quickly got the feel of the bike and relaxed against him – which was a whole other thing entirely. She was curved against his back, her body molded to his, her inner thighs brushing his outer thighs as she held him to her. It gave him all sorts of thoughts and sensations that pulled his attention from the road. He was keenly aware of the solid warmth of her pressed against his backside and thought, if he only swiveled his body around, what a different experience they'd be having.

The bike suddenly swerved, causing Elizabeth to cling even tighter to Will and warning him to reign in his wandering mind. While she was oblivious to his train of thought, she too was feeling the effects of his closeness. The moment she hopped onto the bike and snuggled into his hard body, all manner of inappropriate feelings began stirring in her. But, having never been on a scooter before, the novelty of the scenery whizzing by and the sharp zoom of each new turn and hill provided an ample distraction from her powerful attraction to Will. Soon enough she was able to enjoy the ride as much as the feel of him next to her.

Will could hear her laughs of glee behind him as they hit each new dip and curve and he grinned reflexively. There was just something about Elizabeth. She was so real and alive. There was no one else like her. She was different, completely set apart, and it had done something to him. _She_ had done something to him. He wanted her and her alone. Having met her, no other woman would ever do.

His musings were interrupted when they came upon a particularly rough bump that derived a squeal out of Elizabeth and sent her to gripping him like a vise. Afterwards, she blissfully laughed at herself for such behavior and Will couldn't help but chuckle along.

Five minutes later, with the town stretching out before them, she grew especially daring, removing one hand from his waist to whip off the helmet. He started to object but she declared, "I want to feel the wind in my hair."

Will wasn't about to let the argument go at that – not when her safety was concerned – but the chastisement died on his lips, anxiety turning into another emotion entirely when Elizabeth tenderly rested her cheek against his back. Her nearness, the way she held him….someone might as well have been squeezing his heart, such was the effect on him; he felt it all the way to his soul. And when she was close this way, he could breathe in her scent, a soft fragrance one could only catch when they were close to her. It seemed meant exclusively for a lover to experience and he felt privileged to know it so well – more than just know it; it was committed indelibly to his memory.

In the center of town, as she'd requested, Will brought the Lambretta to a stop at the side of the road, gently patting Elizabeth's hands at his waist. "Where to now, boss? What do you have planned for us?" he asked teasingly.

She bit her lip indecisively. Finally, she said, "I had something else in mind when we left home…."

The way she referred to the Black Pearl as 'home' sent warmth spreading from his heart through his entire body.

"And I still want to do it later tonight, afterwards," she clarified. "But, right now, I think I should try a different 'first'."

"Alright," he answered carefully. "What do you want to do right now then?"

She paused evocatively, the silence stretching out, making it seem as if whatever suggestion was to follow would be met so unfavorably she didn't want to say it. "_I_ want to drive the bike."

"Oh," he said, expecting much worse. "That won't be too hard to do. Have you ever driven one before?'

"No, but it can't be that different from a regular bike, right?"

"Well, actually – "

But she was already shoving against his back. "Come on, switch places with me."

She was so excited at the prospect of driving the Lambretta, there was such an adorable winsomeness in her eyes as she asked, that Will couldn't have refused her even if he'd wanted to. He swung his leg up and over the bike, and Elizabeth immediately scooted forward.

Will took his place behind her, scooched in close against her body. "Now, you said you've never ridden before, so you're going to need some instructions." He leaned around her, ready to explain the controls, but stopped when he saw their one helmet discarded on the ground.

His direction would have been lost on Elizabeth anyway. He was so close to her she could feel his facial hair brushing against her neck, and all she could think about was how delicious it would be if he turned his head in and placed his lips against the tender skin.

But Will had no such thing in mind. He looked accusingly from the abandoned helmet to Elizabeth. Following his eyes, she explained, "It fell off my lap when I moved up into your spot."

"Well you're certainly not driving the bike for the first time without it." Stepping back off the scooter, he knelt and retrieved the helmet, ready to place it back on her head.

"Fine," she countered, maneuvering out of its path, "but at least wait to put it on until after the lesson."

"Fair enough." He bent back over her, explaining the functions of various controls on the bike. "Now the right handle here is the throttle. If you twist it – "

As Will had earlier pointed out, Elizabeth was impatient – too impatient for her own good – and all at once the bike started to zip ahead. Out of instinct, Will dropped the helmet and lunged for the bike. It was he could do to leap onto the back before Elizabeth was out of reach.

"Elizabeth!" he shouted, holding onto her hips to anchor himself. "You weren't supposed to go yet!"

"I didn't think it would just take off like that!" she yelled back.

As they argued, the bike increasingly gained speed, panicking Will all the more. But there was little time for further instructions as they were quickly approaching a sharp turn in the road.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth! You have to slow down!" He tried to reach around her to the handles but, with the speed of the bike and his awkward unsteady position, it was all he could do to hang on. "We'll never make the turn, Elizabeth! You have to – "

Much as he'd predicted, they were going far too fast to properly make the turn and instead went veering off onto the sidewalk. Both Elizabeth and Will screamed as shrieking pedestrians went scattering in all directions. They narrowly missed hitting a group of three, standing by a storefront, who shouted curses at them in heavily accented English.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! I thought we were going to die!" Elizabeth squealed. Then she let out a laugh of pure delight. "It was amazing!"

Will could hardly believe his ears. They very well could have died – and they still might – yet she seemed carefree and full of joy as they zoomed off down the road. What an incredible, lovable woman. She was impossible not to adore.

The feelings had little time to sink in, however, as up ahead they were swiftly approaching the heart of town, a small pedestrian courtyard surrounded by a turnaround that diverted traffic back away from the docks and the ocean beyond. The road followed a simple loop around the courtyard but Elizabeth, yet unfamiliar with the streets there or the motor scooter she drove, made an improper turnoff, much to Will's alarm.

"This turnaround – Elizabeth!" Will warned. "It's one way. _You're going the wrong way_!"

Luckily for them both, traffic was light and they only needed to swerve around one other vehicle – a large truck, coming at them head-on. By some miracle, Elizabeth managed to successfully steer around it and avoid a collision, but their wild driving _did_ attract the attention of the town's one deputy, who had been on break from his patrol but jumped on his own scooter and took off at them, sirens blaring.

"You've got to stop, Elizabeth," Will frantically cried. "That's the police. We're being pulled over."

"I don't know how to stop!" she shouted, for the first time sounding genuinely alarmed.

"It's alright. It's gonna be okay," he tried to reassure her, though he had no idea how it actually would be.

They continued to speed along, making a full circle of the courtyard, the police now in hot pursuit as the bike headed back in the direction they had already come.

"You've got to squeeze the break," Will instructed.

He reached around Elizabeth, grabbing for the controls, but his lurching threw off their balance, sending them swerving to the left and directly into the marketplace.

"We're going to die," Will said in a deadpan mumble just before they slammed into a fruit cart, sending pineapples, melons, and various other fruit flying into the air – and finally bringing the scooter to a halt.

Will hastily jumped off the bike, spinning to survey Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide and her face was blanched. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer to him, desperately trying to ascertain if she had any injuries.

"Are you alright? Elizabeth, are you hurt? _Elizabeth_ – "

"I'm fine," she finally answered, picking a sea grape from her hair. "A little stunned at first, but fine."

She too got off the bike and turned to examine it. There was no missing the long, deep scratch across the side of the Lambretta, which now looked very much like it had been keyed.

Elizabeth looked to Will apologetically, but before she could speak he read her thoughts. "You're alright. That's all that matters."

Neither one noticed the sirens screeching to a halt or the very determined man approaching them – that is, until he spoke. "You're both under arrest."

* * *

Several hours later, Will and Elizabeth still sat in jail. Mercer, the town's lone deputy, dispensed justice with relish, citing citizens for even the most minor of violations, so he took to their case with gusto. Mug shots had been taken, fingerprints obtained, and they still sat in lockup.

Because of the size of the town and the overall island, the city's police station, where Elizabeth and Will were being held, was small and outdated – though one could never say such a thing in Mercer's presence or, heaven forbid, to the sheriff himself, whose ego knew no bounds.

The building was essentially made up of three parts: the sheriff's office, in the middle, with a drunk tank on its left and one small cell with a visitor's hallway to its right. Will was locked up in that one cell, but the sheriff would not have Elizabeth put in with him for "security purposes". The only other cell, the drunk tank, was already occupied and so the problem arose of what to do with Elizabeth. He finally decided to leave Will where he was and lock Elizabeth in the visitor's hallway adjacent to the cell. But, as she was technically not behind bars and, as Mercer put it, "posed something of a flight risk", she was left in handcuffs.

Despite all this, in the beginning, Elizabeth hadn't been concerned at all, if slightly annoyed. She even found it somewhat entertaining, joking to Will about adding another item to her lists of "Firsts". However, as it became increasingly clear they were not getting out of their anytime soon, her anxiety began to grow. She wasn't afraid, not really. If worse came to worse, she could always contact her father and he would get them out of this mess. But phoning her father would mean going home….and leaving Will, neither of which she was ready to do.

So they waited there, Will in the cell and Elizabeth on the other side of the bars, in the small windowless room where they first found themselves all those hours before.

"At least they finally let me make a call," Will sighed as he slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor.

Both of their cell phones had been confiscated and he had only just been allowed to make his one phone call. Afterwards, he'd been summarily thrown back into the cell.

"Who did you call?" Elizabeth asked, settling herself back on the ground near the door, where she had been before they brought Will back in.

"Jack. He thought it was all hilarious, of course, but promised to come bail us out….assuming we're allowed bail. I swear this place is run by vigilantes," Will asserted in exasperation. "It's like some sort of a dictatorship."

Elizabeth winced. "Now would probably be a good time to tell you I don't have an operator's license."

He looked over at her fixedly. "What?"

"A driver's license….I don't have one."

Will's face was blank as he absorbed this information but, seeing the sheepish look on hers, he found himself amused despite their dire situation. This was so typically Elizabeth. Impulsive, spontaneous, impetuous, jumping into action without forethought – just as she had done the day she swam into his life. She was such an independent, free sprit. It was one of the things he loved most about her.

Just to be clear, he asked, "You've never driven any kind of a car before? Ever?" But he knew what the answer would be.

"They wouldn't let me," she replied, trying for defensiveness but laughing all the same. "I always had a chauffeur."

"You might have told me that before you asked to drive the Lambretta," he gently pointed out.

"Then you never would have let me." She said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world to understand.

Will smiled at her, his expression one of warmth and affection. Elizabeth smiled back, and for a moment they knew a bubble of happiness even in these unpleasant circumstances – until his gaze flicked down to her bound wrists.

"Come here," he softly beckoned, and she did as he asked, resituating herself beside the cell door. "This is all my fault."

"Will," Elizabeth said incredulously, "this is _my_ fault. I'm the one who was driving – without a license."

"Yes, but I let you. I could've said no. I could've asked. I was irresponsible with you. I'm the one to blame….I don't know what's wrong with me."

"No," she declared firmly. He had been so incredibly caring, considerate, and protective toward her since they first met, but she wouldn't let him take responsibility for this. The blame was entirely on her. "You can't soften this one for me, Will Turner. _I'm_ to blame….It's my fault you're in there." She said the last part sadly, lifting her shackled hands towards him and gripping the cell as if her touch alone could will it away and set him free.

But he scarcely noticed his own predicament he was so consumed by hers. "I hate that you're in handcuffs," he whispered, pressing his body against the bars to get closer to her.

Reaching out, he softly fingered the skin at her wrists where the handcuffs were fastened. He attempted to rub the skin beneath them, but there wasn't even the slightest breath between the hard, unforgiving metal and her tender skin. "There're so tight – _too_ tight," he breathed in growing anger. Looking more closely he saw that the skin around them had already turned red and was beginning to swell. He let out a soft curse under his breath.

"It's alright," she told him.

He sighed heavily. "No, it's not,"

"I'm alright," Elizabeth assured him. "Just…..don't think about it. Besides, I had fun." Leaning in closer, she said conspiratorially, "It was worth it."

Will smiled toward her. "You were amazing out there," he agreed, "even if you did almost get us killed. So vivacious, and bubbly, and full of life. You _are_ something, you know….something all wrapped up in a very nice package."

There was a wisp of a smile on her face as she brushed her fingertips along the edge of his knee where it rested against the cell door. They had known each other only a short time really but, spending every moment together and connecting on such a deep level, it felt as if they had known one another for years. An easy familiarity had developed between them that now allowed Will to reach through the bars and took her bound hands in his without a second thought.

She looked so heartbreakingly beautiful sitting there on the cold, dusty floor of the jail. It brought out every masculine protective instinct. He wanted to shield and console her. He wanted to make everything better. The desire – the _need_ – to embrace her was intense and overpowering. Instead, he lovingly enfolded her fingers in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

Will's voice was heady and compelling as he said, "On second thought, maybe it's a good thing we are locked apart. I have the strongest urge to do something you'd probably hate."

Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. "Oh?"

"……I want to give you a hug, to take you in my arms and comfort you."

That wasn't where her mind had taken her, but it was appealing and sweet all the same. She was about to tell him so, but he charged on.

"I realize you'd think that's placating and condescending, and I know you're not a child. You're certainly far from helpless, but still…." he broke off. His tone was tender and urgent when he continued in a soft murmur, "I want to hold you."

His words were so beautiful, his eyes filled with such emotion, that tears gathered in hers. "Will, I don't hate every display of gentleness, or tenderness, or even protectiveness…..not the way you do it. You….." He let go of her hands to fleetingly run his fingers over her hair, and she leaned closer into him. "I….." Elizabeth let the sentence trail off, unwilling to finish it aloud. But the back of his hand, brushing warm and gentle along her cheek, pulled the rest from her. "If it weren't for these bars, I……I…."

"You'd what?" Will asked intently, his eyes holding hers.

The door to the room was thrown open before she could answer and Mercer derisively announced, "A Mr. Sparrow is here to see you."

"Captain," Jack corrected, pushing past him. He took in the meager surroundings where his friend was locked up and the young princess sat shackled. "Now this just ain't right. There's no call to be putting the girl in cuffs."

"And they're too tight," Will heatedly called out from the cell, scrambling to his feet to confront the man who had applied them. "They're cutting off her circulation."

The mocking smile never left Mercer's face as he grunted and shrugged, signifying he really couldn't care less about Elizabeth's suffering.

Will looked positively murderous at that and Jack was thankful for the bars holding his friend back. "Whoa, just settle down, mate," Jack told him. He crossed the small space to stand beside Will's cell, giving him a meaningful look that silently conveyed, '_Don't do anything stupid'._ "No need to be raising your voice, William."

"I don't give a damn if I am," Will answered Jack in a purposefully loud tone. He reached through the bars toward Elizabeth, who by now had also gotten up from the floor. Taking her hands back in his, he lifted them toward Mercer and furiously demanded, "Get these cuffs off her!"

Leaning toward Mercer, Jack whispered in an exaggeratedly covert manner, "You'll have to excuse him. He's a mite touchy where the girl is concerned."

"What's going on in here?" a carefully controlled voice inquired. An instant later Cutler Beckett, the sheriff himself, appeared in the doorway.

"The prisoner's gone mad. He's absolutely belligerent," Mercer explained contemptuously. "Demanding the girl be given special treatment."

Beckett gave both Will and Elizabeth a measured look, sparing a momentary side-glance toward Jack. "Release them both and bring them into my office," he demanded, turning on his heel and leaving Mercer to carry out his instruction.

"Wise decision," Jack said, following him out.

Once they were all out in the office, the foursome clustered about Beckett where he sat at his desk, Jack took the lead. Stepping forward, he leaned against the desk, casually shoving aside the paperwork arranged atop it. "Seeing as how we understand each other so well, I say they've both learned their lesson and we can let them go on about their merry way."

Beckett bestowed him with a curt smile. "Do you? Well I say not."

Jack frowned sourly at that, backing away from the desk and idly crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for the rebuttal.

Beckett picked up the top document that now lay strewn to the side, pausing to shake it in the air as if removing whatever residual grime may have rubbed off from Jack's hands. Clearing his throat, he began reading. "Reckless driving, disturbing the peace, destruction of private property, evading capture leading to a high-speed pursuit and, lastly, resisting arrest."

Wide-eyed, Jack looked to Will and Elizabeth, who exchanged a glance then shrugged innocently back at him.

"That's quite a lengthy list of charges, with at least a dozen witnesses to back them up," Beckett continued. "Perhaps you, Mr. Turner, can give me one good reason why I should let you go?"

"_And_ drop the charges," Jack interjected.

Beckett nodded towards him, a caustic smirk on his thin lips. "Yes, _and_ drop the charges."

Will remained protectively at Elizabeth's side, noticeably silent.

"No? Then perhaps you, Miss Reed."

When all eyes turned to Elizabeth, included Mercer's – who dangled the cuffs menacingly in his hand – Will moved forward. "Because……because we….." He desperately grasped for a justification but came up empty.

"_Because_," Jack provided, rounding the desk to stand at Beckett's side, "they were only just married. When they were so rudely arrested, they were on their way to begin the honeymoon – if you know what I mean." He gave the sheriff a man-to-man nudge in the elbow.

"I'm afraid I do, Mr. Sparrow," Beckett replied in distaste.

"Captain," Jack corrected again.

Beckett ignored him, training his eyes on Elizabeth and Will for confirmation of the tale.

Elizabeth quickly jumped into action. "Yes," she beamed, sidling up to Will, who instantly put his arm around her – more out of impulse than intention.

In his mind, they were digging themselves a deeper and deeper hole but, with Elizabeth in his arms, he had no complaints.

"We were married," she continued, "late this afternoon. And I'm afraid this is all my fault." She turned coquettish eyes on Beckett. "You see, I'd never handled that particular motor scooter before, so I wasn't quite familiar with its speed and sensitivity of handling."

She focused her attention back to Will, cuddling into his side and playfully walking her fingers up his chest. "I was _so_ _eager_ to get back to the hotel….."

Elizabeth trailed off, gazing enticingly at Will and weaving her hand into his hair. She had meant it to be a fleeting display, but she paused in the act, momentarily distracted. His hair was incredibly soft, deceivingly so for a man, and she wanted to bury her fingers in it further – or, at the very least, leave her hand there. Still, she forced it the rest of the way through his hair, but allowed herself the pleasure of running her fingers across his jaw line and softly stroking the side of his neck with her thumb.

"…..I just couldn't wait for the proper lesson he was trying to give me," she finished at length.

Will looked down at Elizabeth with desire in his eyes too potent to fake, and the two officials swapped knowing glances.

Jack took that opportunity to speak up. "Now that you have your explanation," he began, removing a wad of bills from his pocket and holding them for Beckett to see, "we can begin to discuss terms of their acquittal and release."

Beckett laughed politely. "Mr. Sparrow – "

"_Captain_," Jack amended, this time with a bit of a pout. "It's not that hard."

"_Captain_ Sparrow….the sum in your hand is offensive considering the seriousness of the charges they face."

"Ahh, so we've established the agreement is sound in principle," Jack cleverly asserted. "Now we're just haggling over price. Well then…." He paused, pulling three more large bills from his pocket. "This should more than cover the damages – and leave plenty for you two gentlemen besides."

"Consider into the bargain," Beckett cunningly upped the ante, "that they nearly ran down three pedestrians."

Elizabeth stepped out of Will's embrace and haughtily approached the desk. "And _you, _Sheriff Beckett, should consider that you interrupted my wedding night."

Beckett gave her an unreadable look. "So I did."

She carried on in impatient annoyance, "And now that it's completely _ruined_ – "

"I'd hardly call it ruined, Miss Reed – that is, lately Mrs. Turner."

Elizabeth smiled to Will at that and their eyes met. Something breathtaking passed between them at the utterance of his surname attached to her.

"It's not even half past ten," Beckett went on, reclaiming her attention. "That gives you plenty of time to return to your hotel for a good consummation before midnight."

She openly scoffed. "I'm sure it is with you, but that's not nearly sufficient time with _him_. Have you looked at my husband?" she asked, turning back to Will. "Several hours wouldn't be enough."

The expression, Jack noted, on Will's face as he looked at Elizabeth was caught somewhere between being thoroughly aroused and utterly blown away.

Elizabeth seemed not to notice as she stalked around the desk. Snatching the money from Jack, she stopped before Beckett, one hand upon her hip and the other thrusting the money at him. "Every moment lost with my husband means one less bill from this pile," she said through gritted teeth. "Now are you to take what's here, or do we both stand to lose as you continue to waste my time?"

Beckett eyed her carefully…..before finally taking the money from her hand.

"That more like it." She smiled sweetly but no one missed the threat behind it. "I'll leave Jack to sort out the details – _including_ the release of my husband's scooter." Crossing the room, she tugged on his arm. "Come along, Will. We have a lot of missed time to make up for."

"I – "

"No, don't say I word," she said, raising a hand toward him. "I'll hear no arguments to the contrary. You have a duty to perform." With that, she sashayed toward the exit and out of the building.

"_Yes, ma'am_," Will readily assented, hurrying after her.

Stepping out into the night air, he found Elizabeth standing just beyond the building's corner looking down at her hands. "You were…..incredible in there," he marveled in complete awe of her. "If you ever think of staying on the island permanently, you should really look into the theatre. You'd be a fantastic addition to the troupe."

"The what?" she asked, looking up at him for the first time.

"Never mind." He walked closer to her and, without the night's shadows blocking out her face, he could instantly tell something was wrong. "What's the matter?" he asked in concern, his eyes trailing her person for a delayed injury he may have overlooked earlier. But they soon slammed to a stop at her wrists. "Oh, honey," he breathed, seeing the large red welts on the underside of her wrists.

"I tried to hide it, but they really do hurt."

Will slowly released a long, controlled breath, as if fighting very hard to keep himself from going back inside and giving the police another good reason to arrest him. "I'll never forgive that man for locking you up that way."

"It's okay," she calmed him. "I'll be okay….if I can just…." She stopped talking, instead attempting to rub at the soreness in her wrists.

"Here, let me."

He cradled her upturned right hand – the wrist of which suffered the deepest welt – in his. Softly, tenderly, he began massaging the redness away. After a moment, the pain of the mark was entirely forgotten, given wholly over to the pleasurable sensation of his fingers rubbing slow, gentle circles against the sensitive skin.

His eyes had been on her wound, watching his progress in reducing the swelling, but he seemed to sense the change in her reception of his ministrations and his gaze locked with hers. His touch grew softer, each stroke of his fingers smoother and more purposefully seductive as his gaze held hers.

His eyes momentarily drifted to her mouth before gliding back to hers. Then he could no longer help himself. He raised her arm toward his mouth, his eyes dark and intense. Turning her wrist, he pressed a whisper of a kiss to its pulse point, where the mark had been.

He kissed her with such overwhelming reverence, it was all she could do to maintain composure. Her lashes fluttered as he began to repeat the action on her left wrist, and she shivered when his lips touched her skin.

And all the while he watched her, conscious of her every reaction. It was impossible for him not to have noticed her tremble of pleasure as his mouth brushed across her wrist, or how even now she was weak at the knee, breathless with anticipation. But she was too lost in him to care.

His eyes still holding hers, he shifted her hand and laid a soft kiss to her open palm. Again he mimicked the process on her other palm, his lips lingering and parting this time, and Elizabeth curled her fingers against his face, tenderly caressing his cheek as he kissed her.

An instant later, he reluctantly released her hand and let it slowly fall away from his mouth. They stood there a long moment, their gazes still locked, until she finally whispered, "I think I'd like that hug now."

Will's lips curved into a soft smile as he opened his arms. Elizabeth took a second to return it before closing her eyes and stepping into his embrace, sinking into him with a pleased sigh.

As he held her gently but snugly in his arms, her head resting tenderly against his shoulder, Will breathed her in, memorizing the feel of her against him, and all he could think was how he wanted to love her and protect her this way forever. Elizabeth needed to be with a man who would cherish and adore _her_, a man who knew how to love a woman and not just own her. But, for now at least, simply holding her would more than do.

Elizabeth lifted her head from his shoulder, pulling back to look into his face, but staying firmly within his embrace. He was so strong, yet gentle; so sweet, yet sexy. With him, protectiveness was not an insult. On the contrary, his caring attentiveness was quite the turn on – and in this moment she wanted him immensely.

As she seemed content just to feel and not to speak, Will too followed suit, wordlessly gliding a hand up her back to cradle the nape of her neck, his fingers lightly playing in her hair.

Jack picked that instant to round the corner and his lips formed a sardonic grin at the scene he witnessed. "What are you two newlyweds up to?" he asked, though his tone suggested he well knew the answer.

They stepped away from each other, but Will allowed his hand to caress Elizabeth's waist and the length of her lower back before letting her go entirely.

"Did you square everything away?" he asked Jack.

"I did. The Lambretta's out back and, here, I got you back these," he answered, brandishing their cell phones and handing Will his. He hesitated before giving Elizabeth hers, and she looked at him questioningly. "You," he said, "need to ring Anamaria and invite her into town. We have a wedding reception to give you."

Elizabeth laughed but, as Jack placed the phone into her palm, she was reminded of how Will's lips had only just been there. Her eyes slid to his, and he must have been thinking the same thing for she saw heat in them.

Elizabeth gazed at Will dreamily, then murmured, "Thank you."

"For what?" he smiled.

"For….everything."

With phone in hand, she disappeared around the corner to make the call.

Will was going to go after her, if nothing more than to watch the lovely animation on her face when she explained the story to Anna, but _his_ phone vibrated in his pocket, garnering his attention.

He cursorily skimmed the text message, and was about to re-pocket the phone when Jack grabbed it away from him and read it for himself. The words '_third attempt'_ and '_need to be taken seriously_' jumped out at him.

"You're gonna lose the job."

Will sighed, looking away. "I just – I can't spare the time right now."

"You're never going to get your business off the ground that way."

"They want me for a weekend consolation, right away. And I…..I can't leave Elizabeth," Will admitted. "Not that long."

"Are you afraid she won't be here when you get back?" Jack asked. "Because I can tell you right now, that woman is – "

"I'm _not_ going to leave her," Will said firmly. "I'll just….I'm going to turn down the job."

"You need the money," Jack pointed out. "Of course, it's not too late to go with the original scheme. You could still sell her story to the tabloids."

"Jack," Will admonished in disgust.

"I'm joking, I'm joking….But, you know, at this point she might be willing to play along to help you."

"I said _no_, Jack."

"But you want the money, and you're going to have to get it some way – though I don't know how if you keep refusing to take work."

"What I _want_ is to make a reputation, a name for myself. I want my own company, it's true. I want to rise above what I'm doing now. But not at all costs," Will affirmed. "That means no one finds out who Elizabeth is….and I don't leave her here."

Jack studied him assiduously. There was something very revealing in the simple fact that Will would rather lose jobs and risk his livelihood than take the chance that Elizabeth would run off while he was away and he might lose her forever.

"Me, I'm a treasure hunter," Jack said at last. Meaningfully, he added, "And I'm sure more than ever that there's treasure to be had for you in this."

"How many times do I have to explain it to you? She's a nice girl, Jack. I'm not interested in hurting her and using her that way. Besides, I don't care about the money."

"Not all treasure is dollars and cents, mate."

Will narrowed his eyes at Jack. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means Elizabeth's a gorgeous, sexy, _vulnerable_ young woman…..who trusts you implicitly," he said, his brow quirked suggestively.

"I'm not interested in using her _that_ way, either."

"You could've fooled me."

Will opened his mouth to reply, but Elizabeth reappeared, announcing that Anna was on her way. They made arrangements to met Jack at the restaurant Anna picked, then left him to walk around the police station and retrieve Will's bike.

As they started out, Will gave Elizabeth a besotted smile and slipped her hand into his. Walking with him beneath the starlight, his palm pressed to hers, his wrist brushing the place he had just kissed hers, she believed perhaps she _was_ special to him…..maybe even special enough for him to finally stay.

She turned to face him, giving him a thoughtful perusal, and he smiled in return, tugging her closer to his side. Something had irreversibly changed in the dynamic between them that night; things would never be the same. They had passed the boundary of friendship and there was no going back.

* * *

It was well on the way to one in the morning by the time Elizabeth was home in bed and, though she had only just left him fifteen minutes before, she was about to call Will to again say goodnight. Her hand was on her cell when it rang. Seeing who it was, she laughed.

"Hey," she smiled into the phone. "I was just about to call you."

"Were you?" Will drawled, soft and pleased.

"To say goodnight."

He chuckled, and mirth was clear in his voice as he said, "But we just did that."

"Okay…..not to say goodnight," Elizabeth slowly admitted, slightly embarrassed at having been read so easily, "but to….talk. Wait a minute, why did _you_ call?"

"I couldn't sleep – well, I didn't want to." He paused, but sounded completely unashamed when he finally confessed, "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Me too. I mean, I – I didn't feel like sleeping," she clarified.

"Are your wrists better?"

"Yes," she laughed. "And you should know. You've only been checking them all night."

He had the courtesy to sound a little discomfited as he answered, "I know, but….I don't like to see you hurt."

She smiled, feeling her heart do a little flip. "You can hardly even see where the marks were."

"Good….So," Will held out the word, his voice throaty with tiredness despite his claim to the contrary. "I thought we had a lovely wedding reception. Did you enjoy it?"

"I did," Elizabeth played along. "Somehow I imagined more guests, but it was lovely all the same."

"It's funny how you imagined the reception differently. Personally, I imagined the wedding night differently. Something a lot closer to what you described at the police station actually." She softly gasped and he asked, "What was that?"

"N-nothing. I was just putting on lotion and I squeezed the bottle a little too hard." Of course his comment had nothing to do with it, she thought wryly. "I dropped some on my chemise."

"….Is that, ah….is that what you wear to bed?"

"A chemise? Yes," she answered, wondering why he sounded so odd. Perhaps he thought it was a matronly choice? "But it's not at all dowdy. It's silk and lace, high-cut on the bottom and low-cut on top. Very age appropriate."

Will made a small choking sound. He pictured her wearing the lingerie all too vividly, sending heat coursing through his body on a straight path downward.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked. Though she knew the next question was completely out of line, leading them down a dangerously flirtatious pathway, she still couldn't help herself. Timidity had never been her forte. "What do you wear, Will?"

Her voice was silky and low, feeling like a caress, and his lips titled up into a slow languid smile. "I sleep naked."

"….Do you?" Her mind conjured up images of its own and she boldly inquired, "Always?"

He knew what she was getting at and was more than happy to confirm it for her. "_Always_."

"Well you always did strike me as man who would look better out of clothes than in."

She made no apology and apparently had no second thoughts for the brash statement, nor the inviting way she all but purred it. "Elizabeth uncensored. I like it." She was absolutely incredible. It didn't matter that she was a princess. It would've been the same if she were a barmaid at Calypso. If he had a woman that vibrant, that amazing, he would never try to change who she was; he would never stifle her. He would shower her with affection, worship her in love……And, if she were his, right now he would storm across the courtyard and devour her. "You know, sleeping in the nude is unbelievably freeing…..You really ought to try it sometime."

Will had the sexiest voice, affecting her just as much as his alluring comments. It made her toes curl, and she ran them lazily up and down the mattress, wishing it was his bare leg. "I suppose I should. It would be another 'first'….Yes, I definitely will."

The phone went silent a moment, with nothing but the muffled brushing of fabric in the background. "Elizabeth?"

"Hang on a moment," she distantly called. "_There_." And all at once her voice was clear again.

"What were you doing?"

"Trying it. In the nude. Right now."

He let out a sharp puff of air. "_Right now_, right now?

"As we speak. Not a stitch on."

And he was right; having no clothing to bind you _was_ incredibly freeing. Still, when she slipped under the covers she wasn't prepared for the sensation of the bed sheets against skin normally covered. It was strange and intimate. When she told him so, he muttered a strained, "Dear Lord," and grew quiet.

Neither could escape the titillating notion that, on the other side of the phone, each was completely naked. It gave the late night call a whole new undertone, and Elizabeth found herself longing for Will in her room, caressing her skin the way the sheet did now. She kept herself from admitting as much aloud, however, and the silence lapsed on.

Finally in control of himself, Will asked, "Are you asleep, sweetheart?"

Something melted inside her at his use of a pet name. Though she would've reamed any other man for such an endearment, it sounded like heaven coming from Will's lips. "No. No, I don't want to sleep yet. Do you?"

Her voice was warm and drowsy – and he wanted her so much it was hard to think. He wanted her there. He wanted tonight, but he also wanted more. He wanted her not just in his bed, but in his life, always. It rattled him to feel that way now, about her, a woman he so obviously couldn't have. But there it was, and it was undeniable.

"No," he answered. "I don't want to go to sleep. Let's keep talking."

"About anything and everything – but we don't hang up the phone."

"I promise," he vowed.

"I want to know all your dreams," Elizabeth beguilingly requested. "All the secrets you've never told another soul."

"Alright," Will agreed, "but you have to tell me all of yours in exchange."

They talked on into the early morning hours, husky laughter and the rustle of bed sheets punctuating the conversation. They stayed on the phone as he promised, neither hanging up until after dawn. And as Will finally drifted off to sleep, his thoughts and dreams were of her.

Elizabeth stayed awake awhile longer, pondering Will, everything that had happened since they met, and how her world had so drastically changed. She now saw with a blinding clarity what the truth of her situation.

All this time, she had been a prisoner forced to play a part – that of the obedient captive – locked in her own life, in her own self, as tightly as she had been in the handcuffs. And she was surer now than ever before that Will, and Will alone, held the key to her release.

* * *

AN: Now that things are getting underway you can see the story will divert quite heavily from Roman Holiday, although the runaway scooter scene was a nod to the film. And I hope the several references in this chapter to events from the Pirates films were obvious too (a jail scene, Jack's haggling over price with a bad guy, Will tending Elizabeth's wounds). Let me know what you think!


	8. Swimming in Dangerous Waters

~~

* * *

I'm gonna use every trick in the book

Try my best to get you hooked

- J. Ross

* * *

Having eventually drifted off to dream somewhere after seven that morning, Elizabeth was still fast in the clutches of sleep when the knocks on her front door finally began to register to her somnolent mind. When she didn't answer at the fifth knock, the sixth was accompanied by the ring of her phone.

Without bothering to look at the ID, she snaked an arm out from the cocoon of her sheets and grabbed the phone, pushing the button and slamming it to her ear. "Hello?" she croaked drowsily.

"At last she awakes," Will's voice came back.

"What time is it?" Elizabeth yawned.

"Almost eleven thirty. And now that we've established the time, we can discuss the weather – once you let me in. I'm standing on your front porch as we speak." He accentuated the statement with another knock.

"Alright. Let me get up and unlock the door." She sat up, and as she did so the blankets fell away, revealing what she had forgotten, and she yelped into the phone.

"What is it?"

"I can't let you in."

"And why not? I'm standing out here with coffee and muffins," he coaxed.

Elizabeth sighed, finally admitting in a whisper, "I'm naked. Remember?"

Will bit back a laugh. "Oh. Right. Well just throw on that silky, lacey thing you were wearing before you decided to go and get all naughty on me."

"Very funny. Give me two seconds," she said, ending the call.

It was closer to two minutes later when the lock clicked and she opened the door. Though her hair was rumpled and her face was flushed from the quick dressing, she was a vision all the same, and Will took her in from head to toe. The chemise _was_ cut high and low in all the right places, as she'd assured him the night before.

"You're right. That's not the least bit dowdy," he told her.

"I'd put on a robe," she offered, "but I don't have one."

"That's quite alright," Will answered, trying not to stare. "I mean, it's your home. You dress as you like."

"In that case, I'll be right back," she said, scurrying into the bedroom to change. She'd never been particularly modest, since childhood accustomed to having nannies and maids around as she dressed. But there was something about Will that made Elizabeth keenly aware of her near nudity. "Have you decided something for today?" she asked through the slightly ajar bedroom door.

"Maybe," he called back, setting their breakfast down on her kitchen table. "I know you told me on the phone this morning that you didn't have anything particularly in mind. But you kept saying how excited you were to be in the Caribbean and to see and experience it all for the first time. I think you did have something in mind. You just didn't realize it."

"Oh?" She reappeared in the hallway, wearing shorts and a simple coral sleeveless top. "And what was I thinking of?"

"The beach. What could be more Caribbean than that? Now I realize this won't be your first swim in our waters – as we both know how you made your great escape – but this time you can actually enjoy it," he teased. "We can swim and snorkel, or just lie around on the sand. It'll be a nice lazy thing to do, considering we've both only had about four or so hours of sleep."

"That sounds wonderful…. _except_ I haven't got a swimsuit either."

"Phone Anna," Will suggested. "She'll be in the lobby doing check-outs by now. I'm sure she's got something you can borrow."

Will was right. Anna readily agreed and, within fifteen minutes, Elizabeth was standing in front of her open closet – a veritable treasure trove of perspective outfits. She smiled giddily over at Anna.

The night before, they had gone out on what could only be described as a double date, and now here she was lending Elizabeth clothing. There was no denying Anna had come to be real, genuine friend – and the first one of her own choosing.

It was also Anna's idea to lend her more than just a swimsuit, lying open to Elizabeth whatever other clothing she might need. It was a generous offer that came none too soon, as Elizabeth was completely out of cash and, though the resort did have washing facilities, there were only so many ways she could wear the same handful of staples.

Luckily for her, she and Anna were the same size, or at least comparable in terms of clothing. However, Anna's taste in clothing ran more to the flaunty and promiscuous than Elizabeth was used to, even when allowed to dress herself. Such exhibitionism felt strange to her, especially considering Elizabeth was slightly taller, making hems on shorts and skirts that much more scandalous. In the beginning she wasn't comfortable with the thought of showing so much skin, but Anna soon convinced her she looked amazing in the outfits and would have Will drooling. She made no reply to that comment, but Anna noticed that afterwards she dove into the skimpy clothing with gusto.

Outside, Jack and Will sat in the courtyard near the pool, Will still nursing the last of his iced coffee.

"They've been in there an awfully long time," Jack commented. "It doesn't take that long to try on any of Anna's bikinis. I know. I've watched her put them on."

Will grinned. "Elizabeth called me and told me it might be a bit. I guess Anna's loaning her some other clothes too, and – wait a minute, did you say bikini?"

"Yeah. String bikini. That's the only swimwear Anna owns." Jack slapped a hand to Will's shoulder. "I'm tellin' you, you're in for a real treat. Fast to get on and even quicker to take off….But you'll soon see for yourself."

"Jack – "

"Hey, it's no business of mine if you want to spend the day debauching a comely young lass – and there's a lot there to debauch, you know what I mean, mate?"

Jack was especially garrulous today. Generally such conversation would typically result in a good-natured ribbing on Will's part, which would garner an insult from Jack in return, but right now Will felt the need to defend Elizabeth's honor.

"I told you, Jack. It's not like that between me and Elizabeth."

"It could be," Jack pressed. He had known Will since he was nothing more than a kid, and ever since he'd known him he'd been buttoned up, staid, and emotionally closed off. This was the first time he'd ever seen Will like a woman enough to open himself up to her even a little. He'd like to see it go further than that. He wanted his friend to loosen up, have some fun, let himself go a little – and Elizabeth was just the person to show him how. Will responded to her in a way he'd never before witnessed, and that was something to encourage. Jack knew for the first time in his life his friend was falling in love. And while such a thing scared the living daylights out of him, he knew it was what Will had been secretly wanting all along.

"No. She's way out of my league….don't you think?"

"William, there's only one league when it comes to men and women – unless of course they're playing for the other side, which is not the case here."

"I'm not interested in bedding her, then running out the next morning," Will argued.

"Who said anything about running out?"

"That's the way it will have to be, won't it? She's a princess, Jack. She won't be staying here forever, and where she's going I can't. I don't just want a lay or two and then goodbye, not with her…….But that's all I ever have to hope for, isn't it?"

"Unless you convince her otherwise," Jack advised. After a pause, he added, "She wants you."

"Do you really think?"

"You've a thick head, you know that, mate? Anyone can tell as much every time she looks at you. She wants you, badly. Use that to your advantage. Lust can be a powerful tool."

Will considered that for a moment, then bluntly admitted, "I want her, Jack."

"Yeah," he smirked, as if the confession were so obvious it was stupid. "I can see that too."

"No – I mean, I _want_ her. Yes." He held out the word a little too long, and his friend got a clear idea just how much. "But I – I want _her_….for me."

"Well get her then."

* * *

Elizabeth emerged ten minutes later to find Will already in his swim trunks. He wasn't treated to the sight of her in a skimpy bikini just yet, as Anna had provided her with a cover-up, but enough of her long legs were showing to hold him captivated, and Jack and Anna quickly dispersed, seeing there were no longer wanted.

The walk down to the Pearl's private beach wasn't far, but it was hampered by Elizabeth's impeded ability to focus or form proper responses. The sight of Will's body was doing all sorts of distracting things to her.

His trunks were long, just grazing the tops of his knees, and at a fleeting glance one wouldn't assume they would earn such a reaction, but they hung low on his waist, leaving ample amounts of bare, tanned, toned flesh on display. He was nothing but long, lean sinewy lines and Elizabeth couldn't get enough of him. His well-defined arms, sculpted chest, and pecs her fingers just ached to run over, combined with his broad shoulders and narrow hips, were enough to make her heart quicken and her stomach do a little flip every time she glanced his way – which was more often than not, as she just couldn't keep her hungry eyes off him. His strong, hard, muscled body was the absolute picture of rampant virility.

Her entire life she'd looked down upon women who entered into affairs purely because of physical attraction, yet all at once she now understood why they did. In fact, for the first time ever the idea was immensely palatable to her….if the lover was Will. Not that she didn't want more, so much more, from him as well. However, right now, her body argued that the physical would be an excellent place to start.

But Elizabeth shook these thoughts from her mind, focusing instead on the sand now beneath her feet. Perhaps if she simply kept her eyes away from such perfection she wouldn't be tempted.

Will led her down the beach, finding them a nice bit of soft dry sand not too far from the water, and set out two large beach towels, side by side, for them to lie on. He'd thought good and hard over what Jack had said – and considered it even harder as a flustered Elizabeth stammered and struggled for coherency on their walk down here. If Jack was right, if she _did_ want him, maybe he could use that to convince her to at least give him a chance at something more….In that case, he was going to try every trick he knew to break her down. Perhaps the blending of seduction sprinkled with genuine tender affection would be enough for her to let her guard down.

With that in mind, Will stepped close to her, allowing his fingers to lightly trail her waist before taking a fistful of the material in his hand and tugging gently at her cover-up. "Aren't you going to take this off?" he asked, pulling on the fabric and drawing her closer.

His nearness created a sudden twist of desire through her that took her breath away. He was sinfully attractive; it was true. But as long as she was going down fast, she'd see to it she wasn't going down alone. _Two_, she thought, _can play at this game_.

"Yes, in fact, I was," Elizabeth replied.

Inching away, she reached for the shirt's hem and slowly eased it up her body. She let the cover-up fall to the sand at her feet and Will's mouth went dry. Within seconds his gaze was all over her.

Her bikini was some sort of a floral pattern of soft yellow mixed with bright pink. The colors served to lend her skin the illusion of a darker hue, but what really captured him was the sheer scantiness of it all. The top was a halter style, a mere wisp of a string tied at the back of her neck and another across her back the only things keeping the small fabric from falling away entirely. Small. That's the lone word his brain could form about the two tiny teardrop scraps of material that covered Elizabeth's breasts. While her curves had always been gentle, the way the top dipped to nothing more than a thin string with open cleavage at the middle and the swell of each breast visible at the sides, set off her chest to perfection and proved that what she did have was exactly what he wanted.

His eyes trailed lower, finding her entire midsection – from her ribs, past her navel, all the way down her low-abdomen to a spot that flirted with decency – was left exposed, as were her thighs, nothing but the tinniest of strings with teeny little bows at each hip marring her bareness.

With her sparkling eyes, kissable mouth, and her curls tumbled and soft over her shoulders, Will wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and love her senseless. Her physical attributes certainly did not go wanting, and he was mesmerized, staring without compunction.

Everything inside Elizabeth felt fluttery and her cheeks heated as he openly perused her body. Still, she did not drop her gaze or shy away, boldly allowing him to feast his eyes for as long as he'd like.

And so he did, studying ever inch of her until a sudden vision of the two of them entwined naked on the sand danced before his mind, and he was forced to pull himself together, resolutely blinking it away.

"Why don't we – why don't we, um, sit down and take in the sun?" Will suggested.

Elizabeth agreed, and they both eased down onto the sand.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and clear, hot but not oppressively so, and soon sitting became lying as they each reclined on the soft cotton towels. Elizabeth was acutely, viscerally aware of him next to her. He was lying so close she could feel the heat from his body….his hard, bare body. She quickly closed her eyes, concentrating instead on the lovely feeling of the sun warming her skin and trying not to think of other less innocent sensations his nearness was generating.

Will watched the emotions playing across her countenance and tried his best to read them. When that failed, he simply allowed his eyes to take in her pretty face while hers were closed and he could look to his heart's content.

"Do you remember last night – or this morning, actually – on the phone, when you told me about the time you made your personal assistant swap clothes with so you could sneak out of the house unnoticed?" he softly asked her.

"Yes," she smirked. "It was the only way I could get out alone. I just wanted to go into the city, have a little time to myself, some independence."

"And then when you told me how you invented a fictitious diplomatic leader so you could take on the persona and filter all your thoughts and ideas through him?"

"No one would listen to me or take my suggestions seriously, but apparently Lord Fauntregard was a political genius – even only through letters," Elizabeth said, not bothering to disguise the feistiness in her tone. "Funny how we proposed the exact same things."

Will chuckled lightly and she opened her eyes, smiling over at his easy, laughing face. "Well I was thinking," he went on, finally coming to his point, "and forgive me if this offends you….I know you care about them, but…..everyone in your life must be an absolute fool." She looked a bit taken aback and so he expounded, "If they don't want to know you as you are, let you _be_ who you are, there's just no other explanation. Because the more I know of you, the more amazing I find you. I wouldn't ever want you to try to be anything else. And anyone who doesn't want to see, and hear, and know, and experience you – just as you are, the _real_ you – they ought to have their head examined."

She was silent a moment, studying him, her expression soft but unreadable. "Thank you, Will." She reached across the sand and placed her hand atop his, lacing their fingers. "You know, you're the only one I've told most of these things to. The truth is I've been more honest and real with you than anyone. And, since you know the full, raw, flawed version of me, it means a lot that you believe that, that you prefer the real me to the illusion."

"I do, with all my heart," he told her, a glint of something unnamable in his expressive eyes. "Elizabeth, if someone loves you, then they let you be you…..or they really don't love you at all."

They both lay on their backs, heads turned to face one another, joined hands held between them, and it was quiet for a moment, each looking into the other's eyes. It was Elizabeth who finally broke the silence.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she whispered.

"I thought you told me all your secrets last night. No fair holding one back," he said playfully, his thumb toying with her pinkie.

"This is a brand new one I just discovered."

"Lay it on me."

"I think you're right, about them…..about _all_ of them."

Will smiled softly, wondering if that meant what he thought it did. Then Elizabeth turned her head back to face the clear blue sky, closing her eyes and spreading her arms as if in adulation of her surroundings.

"I'm glad you like it so much," he laughed. Sitting up, he reached into the tote that had carried their towels, withdrawing a bottle of sunscreen. "But you really should put this on. I wouldn't want you to burn and, ah….." He trailed off, looking down at her body, a charming smile playing across his lips. "…..there's an awful lot of you left bare."

Elizabeth took the bottle from him, fixing him with a flirtatious look. Darting her tongue out to wet her lips, she said, "Yes, there is isn't there."

Tipping the bottle, she squeezed some out into her hand, applying the sunscreen to her legs, arms, and shoulders. Will watched intently as she then rubbed the lotion into her smooth thighs, jealous of her own hands, wishing to replace them with his. She lie back down against the towel, massaging the lotion onto her stomach, and again he longed to be the one touching her there, running his hands along her abdomen, trailing his fingers from one hipbone to the other.

"There," she said smugly, knowing he'd been watching her. She set the bottle down on the seam of their two towels. "But….don't forget yourself."

"Of course."

He picked up the bottle and took on her challenge. Now that he knew how enticing applying suntan lotion could be, he planned to milk it for all it was worth. Then again, it might not affect her at all the way it had him……but he did catch her eyeing him once or twice so he upped his game, rubbing the rest of the lotion on with care and precision, making his abs and pecs and the whole length of his muscled arms shine in the sun.

Unbeknownst to Will, Elizabeth had been watching the entire time, staring helplessly in fact. He was devastatingly sexy, no one could deny, and she was attracted to him – so _so_ attracted to him. But it wouldn't do to indulge such fantasies; it wouldn't do at all. This was the man with the rules, who wanted to keep people out, not let them in….Unless she was 'the one'. She _could_ be 'the one'. But did he want her to be?

She turned her face back skyward, closing her eyes, and Will almost sighed in relief. He was starved for another look at her and he didn't dare to keep openly checking her out when she might notice. He wanted to seduce her, yes, but he didn't want her to think he was only interested in her sexually. But since he _was_ very interested in her sexually, it was a fine line to walk. And, now that she wasn't looking, he could indulge himself at length.

His eyes ran over every inch of her, thoroughly enjoying what he saw – until hers opened and looked straight at him.

"This is fantastic," Elizabeth sighed, clueless as to his line of thinking. She brought her arms up to rest above her head. Her back arched and her chest unintentionally protruded in the process of stretching, highlighting her cleavage to great effect.

"Yeah," Will murmured, his eyes trailing from her face down her neck. Slowly, thoroughly, his gaze dipped to her breasts and sharp desire pooled in his groin. His brows snapped together and he forced his eyes away.

More that just impolite, his ogling was causing unmistakable reactions. She was affecting him much more than was good when his was lying there half-naked. He suddenly felt like a discombobulated, gawky teenager with an urgent need to conceal himself behind a book. Trying to think of any way to prevent her from noticing, he blurted, "Turn over."

"What?"

He gave her an impertinent grin. "Turn over and I'll put sunscreen on your back."

Elizabeth laughed outright, a dizzying alluring laugh that did nothing to help his situation. Still, she did as he asked.

And that was no good either. From this angle, there were brand new sights to explore, but at least now she couldn't tell what she was doing to him. He licentiously looked her up and down, his attention riveted on her backside and legs. All at once he wanted to touch her everywhere.

Instead, he reached for the bottle of sunscreen.

"I'm serious," Will declared solemnly. "Solar radiation is a very serious thing."

"Uh-huh." She laughed again, that damned bewitching laugh. "Do you always use lines like that? And to any result?"

But knowing that he seemed to want to touch her _was_ having results on her, more than she cared to admit, and the interplay between them was reflecting as much, growing increasingly charged as he scooted closer to her.

Squeezing some lotion onto his palm, he countered, "You'd be surprised what results I get."

"I don't doubt it."

"But not from you, hmm?

She looked cheekily over her shoulder at him. "Well, I don't know," she said, purposefully sweeping her hair to one side, giving him free reign. "You haven't done anything yet."

Will put his hands on her, and immediately he felt a corresponding heat throughout his body. It was amazing. Whatever this was between them was amazing. He could feel it every time they touched, even more so when he touched her in this intimate way. Couldn't she?

He was so wrapped up in his reaction, he'd failed to notice hers – which would have instantly answered the question. Her breath had hitched and she'd laid her head back down on the towel the moment his fingers touched her skin, reveling in the sensation. As he rubbed his way down her neck and across her shoulders she felt her body tingling to life, and by the time he reached the small of her back, moving lower, a heady yearning sprang up that was impossible to ignore. His hands were intoxicating, stimulating, absolutely lethal to her resistance.

He slid his fingers low across her back, gliding to the top of her bikini bottom. Then he moved them across to her hips, trailing the sides of her waist up to her ribcage and back again and she let out a low breath.

Will continued meticulously massaging Elizabeth though he wasn't certain how much suntan lotion was actually still left on his hands, but he didn't care. It was a convenient enough ruse, an open excuse to keep touching her, and that's all that mattered at the moment.

Neither said a word while he ran his hands in caressing circles across her skin, but by the time they ceased their movement the air was heavy with Coppertone and desire.

He slid his hand up her back, his fingers hovering near the tie of her bikini. "You know, it's most fashionable in the Caribbean to have no tan lines at all," he cajoled. "It's not uncommon here for women to completely unfasten their tops while sunning."

Elizabeth craned her neck to look back at Will and he punctuated the statement with a suggestive smile that made her heartbeat jump.

She laughed, low and sultry. "_That_ line was better. But I think I'll leave mine on just the same."

"Alright. I'm accommodating. I can work around it."

Will slipped his hand beneath the tiny string and Elizabeth's eyes fell closed, her head resting back against the towel. His hand slowly continued its progress, his finger splaying against her skin. When he reached the edge of her back, it took all the strength he had to stop his hand from continuing around beneath the fabric of her top. Perhaps she feared the same thing for, when his fingers accidently grazed the side of her breast, she made a sharp intake of breath and the hand resting near her face grabbed a fistful of the soft towel.

He instantly removed his hands from her, fearing he had gone too far. Damn his hormones. He knew they we bound to lead him astray with her sooner or later. But, when Elizabeth turned around, the look in her eyes made him doubt his initial judgment of her reaction.

"I – I'm sorry." Her eyes turned questioning now. "I, ah, I thought my hands were too cold for you," he lied.

She was quiet a moment, studying him again.

"No," she finally murmured. "Not at all." She settled back down on her stomach, closing her eyes again before adding invitingly, "But I think you did miss a spot."

Will grinned at her words. There was no other way to interpret her statement than that she wanted his hands back on her body. She wished him to keep touching her and he was more than happy to oblige.

He squeezed more lotion onto her back – though at this point he doubted the guise was even necessary. Running his index finger in enticing strokes up and down her spine, he wasn't certain if the gentle sigh he heard was his or hers. He added his other hand into the mix and this time he knew the rough exhale was his, but he couldn't help it. Touching her this way was the most delicious sort of foreplay, but did _she_ recognize that was what this was? And continually caressing her body was doing nothing to help his condition – which had started all this to begin with and wasn't likely to improve as long as he kept touching her.

"There," he whispered, withdrawing his hands and reclining back on his towel. Elizabeth was still lying on her stomach, and he placed himself at such an angle that she couldn't see anything below his waist without turning.

They lay in a companionable silence for awhile, Will taking deep breathes and thinking of the plight of the rainforests. And when they finally began talking again, they heads turned towards each other, he forced himself to look at her face only until he got himself back under control.

They kept sunning from some time after that, switching positions now and again to maximize their tan and cool their sun-warmed skin. It felt wonderful to each of them simply to be together. It was friendly and comfortable and easy, but underneath was that current of electricity and, if they were honest with themselves, they both were using any excuse to touch the other.

They had been on the beach for close to two hours when Will finally suggested they go for a swim. He rose himself, then took her hands in his and pulled her up. She came to her feet just before him, but rather than move away a discreet distance she stood absolutely still. Longing swirled between them on the soft Caribbean breeze, propelling Elizabeth's hand forward to rest on his arm, her fingers curling around his right bicep.

When she realized what she was doing, she quickly said, "My, you are strong, aren't you?" _Good gracious, what was she saying_? The very instant the words left her mouth she instantly berated herself for such stupidity, but her hand seemed to have taken on a life of its own and she had to offer some excuse.

A flicker of amusement registered in Will's espresso eyes, but the majority of his focus was on the zing he felt from the place she still touched him. Reaching out, he hooked his arm around her waist and drew her closer to him. He was being wickedly flirtatious, but he couldn't help it and didn't want to. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she thought for a moment he might kiss her. But did she want that – the warmth, the embrace, of a man that kissed and then for whatever mysterious reason ran away?

His eyes, his closeness, it was all engulfing her. She was flustered and….and…more than anything she was hot for him. She knew it, and she was beginning to wonder if he didn't to.

She made the slightest of movements back away from him, but he dipped his head low, whispering seductively into her ear, "Are you afraid of me, Elizabeth?"

The sound of his voice sent a sizzle through her. "I….I don't know what to make of you…..You are a dangerous man"

"Really?" Will asked, setting her back away at arm's length, giving Elizabeth her space. "And before you told me I was sweet." The wind took a strand of her hair and he reached out, gently tucking it behind her ear. "What danger could I possible present to you?"

Elizabeth didn't say a word, but she didn't have to. They both knew the answer; he read it plainly in her eyes.

"Come on," he said, starting off in a slow deliberate stride toward the water.

She watched him appreciatively for a moment, then followed after him, quickly catching up at his side.

"But I suggest you stay close. The sharks are even more dangerous them I am," he said with a wink.

"Sharks? Will, are you serious?"

He didn't say a word, just kept walking until he was wading knee-deep in the ocean. Elizabeth stayed firmly on the shore.

"I swam a long way in this water. I could….I could have been eaten by sharks? Will?" she said, growing more perturbed. "I'm serious. _Will_?"

"Nah," he said finally, barely contained amusement evident in his voice. "I was just messing with you."

"You beast!" she cried, charging at him in the water.

"Now who's dangerous?" he laughed, diving beneath the surface.

Will and Elizabeth swam in the sea – the now infamous pier where they met just off in the distance – floating and treading water side by side for neither knew how long until they both grew tired and headed in to shallow waters.

Standing together in the incoming surf, Will rolled his now soaked and heavy swim trunks up his thighs while Elizabeth watched her toes sinking deeper into the sand as the force of each wave tugged back out to sea. Then she turned, looking him up and down, taking in his new leg-baring swim attire.

"Hmm," she said admiringly, so low it was almost inaudible. Will smiled at her, but she didn't return it, narrowing her eyes playfully at him. "I can't believe you tried to make me think there were man-eating sharks out there."

He laughed. "I was only teasing. I like to tease you," he admitted.

"I like to tease you too. But it's more fun doing the teasing than it is to be the one who's being teased," she answered, wondering if that made any sense at all.

Will smiled again. "Oh I don't know. Maybe you've just never experienced the right _kind_ of teasing. I could show you teasing I'm sure you'd enjoy," he said, stepping closer to her.

She had no doubt he could, but wasn't yet certain if she was prepared to let him. Instead, she reeled her foot back and kicked water at him, laughing hysterically as he shook the droplets from his face and hair like a wet dog.

"You'll pay for that," he chuckled, but she took off back out into the sea.

He soon gained on her, however, in the thigh-high waters, but when he got close enough to pose a threat she flung an armful of ocean at him and a water fight quickly ensued. Eventually, Will managed to overtake Elizabeth, pinning her wrists to her chest to stop the deluge of water and holding her back tightly to his front as she still continued to struggle. But he rapidly found her wriggling against him was complicating matters. This prolonged intimate contact was not good all – as a matter of fact, it was too good, creating a bevy of arousing sensations.

His arms around her loosened and Elizabeth took the opportunity to escape. "Ha! I win after all." But he quickly recaptured her, this time pinning her wrists behind her back. "You don't think I'll give up so ea…." Her words petered out as he held her snugly against the hard wall of his chest.

Elizabeth saw something in his eyes change, his breathing altering, and anticipation rocketed through her. As Will's gaze dropped to her soft silky lips, a wave of lust hit her like she had never felt before.

He slowly released her wrists, freeing his hands to pull her flush against him, molding her to him, and he felt his body respond immediately. Looking down into her eyes, he knew he was being pulled under, taken down as fast as a drowning man caught in a riptide.

And Elizabeth felt herself sinking too. Her senses jolted at being held so intimately by Will. She felt a warm quiver low in her belly and she whimpered softly. It was a telling reaction, but she didn't care. Her eyes were fastened to his, falling to his mouth as it inched closer. _Kiss m_e, she thought. _Oh, _please_ kiss me_.

But he held back, his eyes diverting from her lips and he suddenly frowned. "You're bleeding." Lifting a hand from her waist, he gently touched her face just beneath her cheekbone. For the first time, she registered pain, the saltwater from his finger stinging the small cut.

"I…I don't know," she said, bringing her fingers up to join his.

Neither stepped back nor spoke a word about the fact that their bodies were still pressed intimately together.

"It must have been a small rock or a shell fragment that hit you when we were splashing each other," Will reasoned, his eyes locking with hers.

"It's alright. I didn't even feel it."

"Still," he breathed.

Bending down, he softly brushed his mouth to the cut, tenderly kissing her cheek. His lips were warm against her skin and his stubble gently rubbed across her jaw line. His scent, the heat, the feel of him was a foreign and powerful combination, and she found herself wishing for more of his kisses. However, he pulled back away, withdrawing his lips from her face and taking the warmth of his body from hers too. And just that easily, intentionally or not, he _had_ shown her there were certain forms of teasing she did enjoy.

* * *

Late that night, after a phone conversation with Will of a more reasonable length, Elizabeth lie awake pondering their almost kiss and the reaction that even a near miss had aroused.

She wondered what James would think if he had witnessed how she'd acted today, if he knew how she felt seeing Will half-naked, being touched by him, held so closely to him.

She let her mind drift from Will to the course of her relationship with James….and her mind inevitable went to that one evening in her garden just before she left on her goodwill tour……

_Elizabeth stood in the courtyard, absently watching the water bubble up and then trickle its way down the three tiers of the lit fountain to the small pool beneath._

_ When she heard footsteps behind her, she knew it was her fiancé. He always came looking for her after these events once everyone had gone home._

"_Lamb," James whispered, winding his arm around her waist and pulling her to his side. He sighed happily to himself. "Wasn't tonight a glorious evening?"_

_ She found herself incongruously annoyed, both at his presence and the knowledge that he had enjoyed the evening. "Not particularly. I thought it was especially boring."_

"_Elizabeth," he lightly chortled, "you really must stop saying those things. Someone who isn't familiar with your sense of humor, as I am, might actually believe you mean it."_

"_Yes of course," was her dry, polite answer to match all the other dry, polite answers she'd been giving all night. _

_ In fact she did mean it, and she should hope the man she was supposed to marry in only a few months' time would know her well enough by now to realize that. But then her hopes and dreams frequently went unanswered, a fact she ought to be used to at this point in her life, as it was always the case._

_ Moving to the side, Elizabeth slipped out of his grasp. "Did you need something, James?" she asked, holding on to her patience by a thread. "If not, I think I'm just going to go to bed. I am rather tired."_

_ She began to walk toward the open parlor doors, but he grabbed her wrist, spinning her back to face him._

"_I need _you_. You know how all this dining and dancing and hobnobbing gets my blood flowing," he told her, creeping closer. "And only you can satisfy me_….._If you _will _satisfy me." _

_ He said that last part under his breath, but she'd heard it nonetheless. The two of them had yet to have sex, as she repeatedly refused him. While she had to admit it was more than a bit unorthodox for a couple who'd been courting as long as they had – and were in fact engaged – she simply couldn't bring herself to go through with it. It was a continued bone of contention in their relationship._

"_What do you say?" He wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her to him. "It's not too late tonight, and I haven't heard one word of a headache." He nuzzled his face against her ear. "Now I'm a little tired too, sweetest, but not too tired for you." _

_ Pulling back, he kissed her long and hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth as his hand edged up her side. Then he deepened the kiss, slinking his busy tongue in ever farther, if such a thing were possible, as the fingers of his free hand sought out her thigh. _

"_James, no," she gasped, trying to catch her breath from his forceful kiss. "No, really. I don't want to."_

_ He didn't know her, refused to see her. Why would she want to give herself to him? She couldn't for the life of her figure out why that was so hard to understand. She wanted a man who would cherish and adore _her_, who would know her inside out and love her anyway in spite of her flaws, because of them. This was the man she finally would give herself to._

"_Oh, come on," he wheedled, nauseatingly close to begging. "You _do_ want to." He kissed her once more before moving his mouth down to lick the side of her neck, apparently in an effort to entice her. "Let me show you, you do." _

_ He was becoming more aggressive now, his fingers sneaking under the hem of her skirt. "James, truly," she said, trying to edge back away from him but not succeeding by much. "I_….._I don't – "_

"_You can't stop now," he argued. "Not when you've made me want you so much." His lips found hers again and he groaned into her mouth. "Here, feel that." He rubbed his erection against her. "Feel what you've done to me. It's up to you to fix it."_

"_Stop," she said disgustedly, again attempting to break free from his embrace. "Now you're being crude."_

_ James laughed lightly. "I am not, dearest. I just want you."_

"_I don't care. I told you I don't want to."_

_ He lustfully took her mouth with his, pressing her closer into him and holding her firmly against his body. Finally ending the kiss, he panted, "Come into the parlor with me, Elizabeth, and we'll finish this. I promise you won't be bored."_

"_No."_

_ She knew what she wanted and it wasn't James. She refused to settle for less_…._at least not now – and not with her body. That was one thing she wasn't yet prepared to give him. _

_ He kissed her anyway, perhaps in hopes to persuade her; she couldn't say, but she wanted it to stop. Within seconds, he was caught up in the kiss, brushing his pelvis against her and gliding his hand up to cup the side of her breast. _

_ She ripped her mouth from his. "I said _no_!" Elizabeth shouted, pushing him back away from her – and directly into the fountain. She hadn't meant for that to happen, but seeing him sprawled there in the coy pond she couldn't help thinking he could use the cooling off._

_ James wasn't mad. The look on his face as he climbed out of the fountain could only be described as hurt. It helped stem whatever anger she might otherwise have left._

"_But_…._but Elizabeth_….._I'm your _fiancé….._I love you."_

The sad truth of it was that James was being sincere. He truly did love her, in a way. The problem was he was in love with the her he wanted, the Elizabeth he imagined her to be. The blame couldn't fall entirely upon him; he was thoroughly helped along by every governess, maid, and every other member of her father's PR team who, since her birth, had carefully crafted an image of how the princess should be perceived, what they thought she should be. They had drilled this version of her inextricably into the public's mind – though they'd had much less success getting her to conform to it.

She didn't fault James too much at falling into the trap. Everyone else in her life had…….except Will, her heart corrected. He was the only one who had ever truly listened to her. He understood who she was and accepted that. He didn't try to fix her, or change her, or mold her into something he thought she ought to be. He was the only one who had ever looked at her and not through her; talked to her and not around her. He knew and appreciated _her_.

And that wasn't the only 'first' Will had accomplished in her life. While she'd certainly had sexual feelings in her lifetime, she could never actually picture herself with any one particular man she knew. Perhaps it was because the men of her acquaintance were so abhorrent to her – and her fiancé was no exception. She simply wasn't interested in getting intimate with a man who couldn't or wouldn't see the woman inside. She did not want to be thought of as just a trophy on an arm, instead a living, breathing, real woman. She hadn't wanted sex, hadn't wanted James. He didn't move her. He did absolutely nothing for her. She wasn't attracted to him, and the idea of sharing her bed with him left her cold.

But Will…..Will was another story entirely.

Elizabeth realized with a startling clarity that, not only would she consent to sex with Will, she herself wanted it; she wanted _him_, badly. Not just in a dream or fantasy, but in reality – so much so that right now would do. While she couldn't wish or even imagine James in her bed, the thought of Will there was completely different. Not only could see vividly picture it but, the more she did so, the more she yearned to make the picture come to life.

After the fountain debacle, James had called her frigid and unfeeling. He'd stopped short of asexual, but the words had stung nonetheless. And, knowing the oddity of still being a virgin at her age – and how she had steadfastly refused to alter that at every given opportunity – she'd begun to wonder if there was truth in what he said. But now she saw the absurdity of the bitter comments of a petulant man, frustrated because he'd been denied what he wanted.

She felt quite a lot for Will, and her feelings were anything but cold. In fact, they left her burning hot. Had _he_ been the one with her that night, he wouldn't have ended up in the fountain. No, she could say with certainty she would have eagerly went with him into the parlor.

The only problem was in getting him to ask her there……And what would happen afterwards. That was the terrifying quandary that kept her silent.

* * *

AN: When I started out to write a modern AU, I wanted to keep the characters as close to their original versions as possible. Naturally though there would have to be some alterations and concessions because of the 250 or so years separating a modern story from the original Pirates. One of the issues I struggled with the most was Will and Elizabeth's past involvements and how that would realistically figure in with their characters. It is my belief that in the original story (and I think anyone familiar with my period fics already knows this) that both Elizabeth and Will hadn't been intimate with anyone before each other and only then for the first time on their wedding day. That makes sense for their time period. However, it really doesn't make a lot of sense for ours. Considering Will as a modern male, even with all of the wonderful characteristics of his original period self, I just could not envision a scenario today where this would be the case. Considering the background I've created for him of being raised since his preteen years by a not so responsible father in an environment with a host of characters that aren't exactly the best of role models, and the fact that he's ridiculously handsome and has women throwing themselves at him, I just couldn't picture him being celibate. On the other hand, considering his family background and what happened between his parents (which will be further revealed later), he also wouldn't necessarily be a fan of casual sex, but more than anything he would not take commitment lightly – and I tried to touch on some of these things particularly in Chapter Six. So that's how my take on Will formed, as a man with a lot of emotional baggage who has created a quasi set of morals for himself that allows him to be sexually active but polices it with his crazy rules (further explanation of which will be given in the next chapter).

But Elizabeth was a whole different scenario. She's a modern woman, yes, but trapped within a very limited world, unhappy with her life and the society she's allowed to mix with. It wasn't my goal to have the stereotypical virginal heroine and I did have concerns that people might construe it that way or find it sexist that in this story the woman is the sexually innocent one while the man has had numerous past encounters. But considering Elizabeth's background, the fact that she's only come into contact with a select number of men who aren't at all the sort she would be interested in, and taking into account the fact that she is a strong woman who doesn't easily give in to pressure or willingly do things she doesn't want to do I just couldn't see her having a sexual past. It's not that as an author I wanted to give Will more freedom than Elizabeth (although the plot does dictate that, at least in the past, this was exactly the case) but, to be frank, I just didn't believe that there was anyone around Elizabeth's cloistered world that she would want to have sex with. I tried to explain it that way within the chapter, but this longwinded clarification is my further attempt to make it abundantly clear why I made this particular choice.

Oh, and sorry if there was any confusion about the flashback in this chapter. I wanted to indent it, and tried for a half hour but couldn't get the site to register blockquotes.


	9. Secrets Aired

I want you so bad, it's my only wish

- W. Adams

* * *

"Tell me the facts again," Weatherby Swann anxiously demanded. His scones and clotted cream sat untouched, his tea quickly going cold.

Gillette, felling the tension ratchet up another notch, wisely set his cup down. It was rare for the king to take tea in his office rather than the parlor, as was his usual custom. Some would say it was all the more unorthodox for the head of his security team to be invited to join him. But Gillette had always been more than an employee, or even a professional willing to give his life to protect the other's. Weatherby had grown to consider him a friend, an ally he could trust with not only his life but the princess's as well, which made his failure all the more poignant.

"I'm afraid the facts are what they always have been, sir. We've been apprised of nothing new. What we do know, we've already been over a dozen times."

"I don't care. Tell me again," Weatherby roared. He was a patient composed man, with a reputation for being easygoing, except where one thing was concerned. Elizabeth was his one vulnerability. She held the power to make his heart soar with happiness or fail with fear – and at the moment it was doing the latter.

"Sir, the evidence is quite clear. After Estrella discovered the princess was missing, we made an immediate search of the waters. Her cabin was swept from top to bottom to ascertain clues as to what may have happened," Gillette re-informed him. "Of course there was the very real chance that the princess had inadvertently fallen overboard, however we could not immediately dismiss other possibilities. And we were right not to. The state of her cabin made it abundantly clear that this was in no way accidental, but it also ruled out a suicide attempt. The princess's robe and negligee were found on the cabin's floor. Her clothing armoire was left open, and the hidden panel in the desk drawer was lifted, the relatively sizable store of money I'm told she kept there missing. It all pointed to a quick, calculated escape which could lead to only two conclusions. I had my suspicions all along that Estrella knew more than she was letting on and, as soon as the possibility of an inside kidnapping was brought up, she was surprisingly forthcoming. We are of absolutely no doubt at this point that the princess jumped off the ship voluntarily."

Weatherby knew his daughter had been unhappy, but apparently he had no idea how much. In the beginning, he'd hoped it was just an accident. Now, knowing she was so discontented in her life that she would go to such lengths to escape it was almost as upsetting as not knowing her whereabouts…..or if she was even still – but no. He would not consider that possibility.

"I can't pretend that's what a father wants to hear," he said quietly. "However I find hope in the conclusion all the same. If this was an attempt to 'run away', for lack of better wording, than surely my Elizabeth wouldn't do so unprepared. It offers a much better outcome than if she accidently fell into the sea, perhaps in some sort of physical distress."

"True, sir, but…." Gillette hesitated, not wanting to bring up the elephant in the room neither man discussed; nevertheless it was his duty to at least broach the matter. "There is the sedative to consider."

"My daughter is a strong swimmer," Weatherby sharply replied.

"Yes. Yes, of course." Gillette cleared his throat grimly. "And we must be encouraged that no body has been found."

"My daughter is _alive_," the king insisted. "What is being done at this moment to find her?"

"We're making a search of the immediate area, the nearby islands as our top priority. However the region is crawling with islets, reefs, atolls, and islands of various kinds, from the tiny to the well-known ports. We mapped out a radius of the boat's location at the time the princess was discovered missing and have been focusing on the larger, more obvious tourists destinations as her target. However, there was some length of time between when the princess was last seen and when she turned up missing, and the ship was traveling at a respectable speed. Therefore our initial radius could be somewhat off. And then, of course, if she had help in planning this escape, she may have had an accomplice with a boat waiting, which means she could really be anywhere at this point. But we do not feel that is the case. We believe the princess was alone in this, and a sweep of the immediate islands is still the best course of action, if not exactly a speedy one."

Gillette paused, eying the king carefully. "Naturally we are keeping this matter very hush-hush. But….I was wondering if we might apprise the Duke of the situation. It _is_ possible that she may be hoping to meet him somewhere, planning an early elopement as it were."

"No," Weatherby shook his head. "It's not possible." He didn't plan to delve into just why it wasn't possible. He was well aware that his daughter had never been crazy about her fiancé, but no one else needed to know that. "We tell James nothing, not yet." _Not until I can figure out the best way to spin this_, he silently added. "He, like the public, is to keep on believing that Elizabeth has merely taken ill and is resting under a doctor's care. But we keep looking – aggressively. Whatever it takes, we _will_ find her."

* * *

Unaware of her father's meeting half a world away, Elizabeth blissfully chewed a mango turnover, sitting amongst a ragtag collection of the Black Pearl's staff. This was breakfast for some and lunch for others, depending on when their shifts fell, but whatever it was, she loved it. And the more she got to know Will's eccentric group of friends, the more she realized these people had been like a family to him, especially the long-time members of the crew like Gibbs, Cotton, and Marty, men who had known Will since he first came over to live with his father. Knowing this endeared them to her, but she also couldn't help thinking how a boy with such an unconventional adolescence would almost have to grow up with a stray issue or two. Still, she was glad for whatever small sense of family Will had been given – and was thankful they were offering the same to her now.

The Dauntless, the Black Pearl's main restaurant, offered seating both inside the lobby and out around the pool area. Since it was such a lovely day, they'd opted to eat outside – which is where they all were now – and, since the Dauntless' meals were excellent, they'd all made quick work of the food. Originally, Will had been sitting at a small table with Elizabeth, his other friends clustered about at tables of their own but, as the meal wound to a close, people started calling him to this and that table and a general mingling ensued.

At the moment, Anna was sitting with Elizabeth as they both downed a second turnover.

Elizabeth had stopped over to her cabana earlier that morning to borrow some more outfits, including something "casual and able to get dirty" as per Will's instructions. He was taking her to see the shipyard and warehouse where he did his work, and then afterwards to some mysterious location that apparently offered the possibility of getting dirty. She didn't know where that might be. She only knew it seemed important to Will that he show her, and so it was important to her too. But Elizabeth had secret plans of her own. Tonight, she wanted Will to take her out to complete the "First" they'd been derailed from the night of their arrest. A little time in jail hadn't swayed her desire, and she was absolutely determined nothing would interrupt them this time around. With that in mind, she had also borrowed some of Anna's clothes that were more appropriate to such a setting.

Over their pastries, however, their chat had somehow turned not to clothes or Will's shipyard, but to the man himself….and to Elizabeth….and whatever it was that was going on between them.

"Anna, we've been over this," Elizabeth said, straightening her ponytail as a means of distraction. "Nothing's happened between us besides a little harmless flirting."

"But not for long," her friend winked back.

When Elizabeth failed to reply in an equally saucy manner – or even to reply at all – Anna looked at her a long moment, studying her features as she silently sipped her iced tea.

"He has feelings for you, you know," Anna told her.

Elizabeth looked up at that, but not at Anna, at their diverse little group as it began to disperse. Startlingly, Anna's last comment – or variations thereof – had been the prevailing opinion that morning. Cotton, the oldest of the bunch, who'd been born deaf and suffered a speech impediment because of it, talked largely through sign language, which Elizabeth did not know, but Marty had been more than happy to act as interpreter. And Marty was a sweetheart too, going about his day happy as can be despite the sometimes insensitive comments about his height from the odd clueless or just plain rude child. But, rather than discuss his life or work with her, he had also broadcast the same message about Will – from both himself and Cotton. She wondered if it was something in the water. Of course none of them knew that she was a princess….or technically engaged.

"Why the hesitation?" Anna asked.

"Will is a darling. He's been wonderful, so caring and supportive. That said, I hate to let you all down, but I don't think he's in love with me, if that's what you mean. Whatever feelings he might have, _if_ he has any, are – "

"Strictly below the waist?" Anna offered.

Elizabeth smiled slightly at her rib, but looked down, suddenly finding her tea fascinating. She was surprised the comment had stung the way it did, both because it suggested that Will was only interested in her for sex – her own private fear – and because, even in that region, she apparently couldn't tempt him greatly enough. But then Anna had no way of knowing what had happened between them on the beach – or the fact that she would have willingly and readily kissed Will but _he_ had been the one to back away. The morning after, she was still disappointed though she knew she shouldn't be.

"Is this about his silly little rules?" Anna went on. "He doesn't have those because he's a jerk." She leaned in as if the rest she was about to say should remain a secret between them. "There's more to it than that. I don't know the full story, but Jack does. I only know what he's hinted at here and there, and what I've observed myself since I've known Will these past five years. It has something to do with his upbringing, I think, something that happened when he was young that scarred him."

She paused, waiting for a response, but Elizabeth gave none. Anna was trying to talk Will up, that much was clear, but it wasn't necessary. She already wanted him. The trouble lay in winning him – and keeping him – but she wasn't about to admit as much to anyone.

"Look, I just know that Will's a good guy," Anna said, ready to leave it at that. "And I think that deep down, all this time, he really has wanted something more, even if he didn't realize it until he met you."

Gibbs walked up to their table then, overhearing the last of their conversation. He, like his mates, knew that Will was over the moon for Elizabeth. However, he went the furthest of them all by saying, "Will? Any fool can see he's mad about you. I wager you'll be married by this time next year."

Elizabeth nearly choked on her tea, but Will played her hero yet again. His eye caught hers across the table as he came to join them. "Me? I'd be a lousy husband," he said in an easy, endearingly self-deprecating manner. "Elizabeth can do far better than me."

Gibbs laughed and slapped him on the back as he walked by, and Anna too left, vacating the seat for Will.

Despite her previous fear, that her charms hadn't been enough to tempt him, Elizabeth couldn't miss the changed dynamic between them since their beach day. Every look between them sizzled, every touch felt intimate and full of promise. But she still couldn't understand why he'd been so flirtatious and then, when the opportunity presented itself, pulled away. He was back to flirtatious again this morning, it was true, but what did it all mean? Was that one of his rules? Keep the women guessing? She wouldn't want a relationship with him like that, didn't want to be one of those 'rules women'. She was not interested in just a quick tumble….was she?

Will eased his chair closer to hers, asking permission with his eyes – and receiving it – to steal the last bite of turnover from her plate.

Elizabeth smiled as he gulped it down. "You were wrong," she told him softly. "What you said wasn't true at all."

His brow furrowed, trying to figure out what she could mean. "Which part?"

She laughed at his obvious distress, so clearly figuring himself in trouble. "About being a lousy husband. You'd make a great husband….the perfect husband. I know from the fifteen minutes you pretended to be mine," she grinned.

When Will said nothing in return, Elizabeth let the conversation fall into a comfortable lapse as she looked out toward the beach beyond, but he watched her all the while as she absently played with the rim of her glass and then fiddled with the length of her straw. Finally looking back toward her tea, she dipped her forefinger into its murky depths, impishly dunking a square of ice and sucking the lingering tea from her finger.

All at once, Will took her hand from her mouth, drawing it to his and pressing a kiss to its back.

Elizabeth studied his umber eyes. "What was that for?"

"Just a thank you, for washing up on my pier."

"I should be thanking you," she smiled.

"Well, from where I'm sitting, it seems we've both changed each other's lives."

And she couldn't argue with that.

* * *

Elizabeth spent the entire hour they were at Will's warehouse and shipyard marveling at the sketches and blueprints and the ships in varying stages of completion and repair. That she was impressed with his work was an understatement. How he was able to build such wonders from nothing at all was nearly beyond her and, again, it said a lot about the man. His patience, attentiveness, and care were as clear in his work as his sheer talent.

As remarkable as all that was, she was equally struck by the fact that, like the _Flying Dutchman_, this was an aspect of his life that Will apparently did not share with many people, if any. The fact that he chose to do so with her, and seemed so excited about it besides, touched her heart and made her question her earlier thoughts that Will's interest in her was shallow and purely physical. At the very least he appeared to value her friendship. Unfortunately, everything in her wanted to be more than just friends, but she was well accustomed to quelling her hopes and desires.

Locking up the warehouse, Will's eyes shone with even more excitement and mischief as he led her across the small alleyway to the dark brick building next door. Evidently this was the second mysterious location he'd planned on showing her.

"What do you have up your sleeve, Will Turner?"

"I can't tell you yet. You have to wait for it. But I promise you're going to love it."

His enthusiasm made her all the more anxious to know what was in store, but regrettably the exterior of the large building gave nothing away.

Flipping through his key ring to find the proper fit, Will let them into the building, switching on the lights and illuminating the expansive room.

"Oh my goodness," Elizabeth laughed in disbelief as she stepped further into the building. "It's a smithy." Other than some modern concessions here and there, most glaringly the florescent lights overhead, the room was nearly an exact replica of those she'd seen in films and read descriptions of in books. "I didn't even know these still existed."

"They don't, generally speaking. John Brown owns this place. He has since I was a boy. He's found his niche making traditional weaponry for production companies."

"Really? I always just assumed they used something pretend."

"Often they do," Will explained. "But if the sword is particularly important to the story, or it's going to be shot in extreme close-up, they prefer to use the real thing. It just looks more authentic. Some producers will search the antique markets for the genuine article but when it can't be found, or it's just too expensive, that's when they turn to Brown. He still makes swords the old-fashioned way. It's the closest thing you can get to the real thing."

She was genuinely awestruck, at the swords, the smithy, and the connection to the movie business. "This is fascinating, Will. How did you get involved in all this? Assuming you are, but you must be; you have the key. You're friends with this Mr. Brown?"

Will smiled at that. "Brown. Just Brown. That's what everyone calls him. Yeah, I guess you could say we're friends. We met just after I first moved out here. My father used to work at the shipyards, so I was always nearby, and one day I wandered over. I was so enthralled…." He laughed at the memory. "I think Brown found me amusing. He had no children of his own and his wife had recently died. He sort of took me under his wing, taught me how to make the swords – horseshoes and nails too, you name it. I suppose he just wanted to pass the knowledge along to someone, and luckily for us both I was there. I still come over and make a sword or two when I can spare the time. Sort of keep my hand in, you know."

"You make swords too?" she asked in astonishment.

Will just modestly nodded his head, but there was pride in his voice when he said, "See that one there." He pointed to the sword on the far left of the nearby rack. "That one is mine."

"_Will_," she went on, almost too flabbergasted to find words. "Mapping out designs, building ships, and now crafting swords. What can't you do? Apparently you're quite skilled with your hands." Realizing the potential innuendo in what she'd just said, her cheeks colored. "I….Well…I meant – "

Will placed his fingers to her mouth, silencing her. "I know what you meant."

He was drawn in by the softness of her mouth beneath his fingertips, and he left them there longer than was necessary, allowing them to linger and drift across her full lips. Then he abruptly moved back. It was the only way he could stop himself from kissing her.

He could have kicked himself for not doing as much yesterday, when the timing and mood and setting had been so right. But as his mouth honed in on hers, it had suddenly flashed through his mind that she was a princess _and_ engaged, even if the depth of her affection for her fiancé was up for question. What if she had rejected him? Then what? It would ruin all that was between them now. Just because he could see beyond her title and stature, just because he believed he could offer her things, love her in ways she'd been denied, that didn't mean anyone else could. Even so, he wasn't giving up on her yet. But now didn't feel like the right time, and so distance was the only option.

"There's more," he told her, bringing the subject to safer ground. "Over my fifteenth birthday, a stunt coordinator for one of the films Brown was hired out to came to the island to examine the swords. As a present, Brown arranged for him to give me lessons in sword fighting, and I was…..gone. It was all I wanted to do. To this day, I think René stayed over far longer than he needed to, but I was such a willing pupil and I revered him like some kind of God," Will laughed. "After that, all through school, I saved up to take more lessons wherever I could and again, when I was studying at the university, I furthered the skill." He looked over at Elizabeth, who was regarding him with a curious sort of smile creeping across her lips. "What?"

"_And_ you can fence?" she asked enigmatically.

"Yeah, quite well if I do say so myself," he bragged, to which the corner of her mouth rose further but she said nothing. "But that's not the part you'll like the best," he said. "When I came back from England, seven years ago, I bought the warehouse next door for my business and Brown and I got reacquainted as adults. He still worked in the film business – still does – but he was looking for ways to supplement his income in-between projects. One day he saw me practicing at swords, and by this time the Black Pearl had become quite the thing on the island. He just sort of put two and two together. That's when he came up with the idea of the troupe. Jack just loved it, so we – "

"I vaguely remember you mentioning something about a troupe after he bailed us out of jail," Elizabeth interrupted.

"Yes. That's the part you'll love. I….." He paused, looking somewhat sheepish. "I didn't want to tell you at first because it's kind of embarrassing but, once a month, we do these big reenactments with tall ships, sword fighting, treasure chests, the whole nine yards. The tourists eat it up, of course. Bookings always increase on those weekends."

Elizabeth laughed; she couldn't help herself. Before all of this began, when she was back in her old life, miserable aboard that ship, she detailed to Estrella her dreams of running off with a man like those in her pirate stories. Astoundingly, it seemed one had been plucked right out of them for her.

"See, you're laughing at me. But it really does help drum up guests," Will defended.

"I'm not laughing at you," she assured him. "I'm laughing at me, if anyone."

"Good," he taunted, "because if you were I couldn't show you the surprise."

"Another one?"

"Yep. Wait right there. It's in the back room."

He disappeared to a small room in the far back of the smithy, closing the door behind him. Left to her own devises, Elizabeth approached the forge, absently sweeping her hand across the hearth. Looking down at the soot her fingers had accumulated, she rubbed them against her thigh, the ash dusting off onto her yoga pants.

She considered her pants for a moment and then the rest of the outfit, a short sleeved zip-up sweatshirt and a matching yoga cami beneath. As he'd instructed, it could all withstand getting dirty, but it was also the perfect exercise wear…..

Smiling deviously, she knew whatever surprise Will had couldn't possibly trump the one she was about to give him. But as he stepped out of the back room her jaw dropped open. She found she'd never been more wrong.

For the first time since she'd met him, Will's hair was left loose, dark curls cascading down from beneath the green bandana he'd tied about his head. He was wearing a dark maroon shirt, its open V-neck dipping halfway down his chest. The shirt, though loose and flowing in the buccaneer style, was tucked into his pants, showing off his slim narrow hips to perfection. Around his waist he wore a long sash as well as a weapons belt, where a sword was currently sheathed. From there, his black pants skimmed over his backside falling away to nearly knee-high boots. All in all, he looked the very picture of a swashbuckling pirate, an image that stirred up lust down to her very core – all the more so because she knew he dressed this way for her.

He really did look meltingly sexy, and apparently it showed on her face because a wide grin blossomed on his. "Well? What do you think?" he asked.

Before she could censor herself, Elizabeth blurted out, "I've never been so attracted to you."

Will laughed. "I thought to myself, what better way to win over a girl with a pirate fetish than to dress like one."

"So you spend your solitary hours thinking of ways to win me over, hmm?"

The truth was he did, not that he had many solitary hours. Since they'd met, they spent nearly ever waking moment together. He wondered if she realized that. Still, he wasn't about to admit her teasing question was as close to the truth as one could get.

"That, and when I was flipping through my closet and saw this outfit I thought, 'Elizabeth has got to see this'," he replied cheekily.

"So that's what you wear in the reenactments." He nodded. "Well then I'm going to have to stay until you have another one."

He grinned again. "Good. I hope you do. But, if you like the costume so much, I'm wearing it right now," he pointed out. "And you have me all to yourself, no tourists or competing pirates to get in the way. Why wait until then?"

"True," she conceded. "You do have a point. Crowds wouldn't work at all for what I have planned."

Will took a hopeful step closer. "Just what exactly do you have in mind?"

"Fencing."

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded. That wasn't at all what he'd hoped she'd say.

"Remember the day we went sailing and I told you I have hidden talents of my own?"

He did, in fact, remember. That day too, his mind had gone somewhere far different. "Fencing? That's your hidden talent?"

"One of them," she laughed, amused at his astonishment. "My father's a man of tradition, and I never have been. Fencing was about the only old-fashioned thing – other than pirates – that I showed any interest in."

He didn't mean to offend her, but he couldn't avoid stating the obvious. "But you're a woman."

"I'm glad you noticed," she smiled. "But it hasn't been all that uncommon for women of nobility to learn to fence, and this _is_ the twenty-first century."

"So let me make sure I understand this. You want me to fence…with you?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he said somewhat unsurely. "I – I guess. But we'd have to use practice swords."

"Not the real thing?" Disappointment was clear in her voice.

"Elizabeth, I'm not going to risk either of us getting hurt." He saw her open her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, stopping her. "And no matter how good you think you are, mistakes can still happen."

"Fine, but I don't just think, I _am_ good, practice swords or not."

Will's lips formed an involuntary smile. She certainly was amazing – and unspeakably attractive when she got all proud and indignant. He wanted more, and so he said, "Then again, I never have crossed swords with a woman. I'm not sure it would be a good idea."

That did the trick. She shot him a charmingly piqued look. "Oh, I think I can manage. You just worry about yourself."

To further tease her, he argued, "But I wouldn't want you to be at an unfair disadvantage."

"Just for that, I'm going to have to beat you," she said, raising her eyebrow in a dare-you fashion.

He abruptly turned, unsheathing the practice sword from his belt and walking over to the wall to retrieve an additional one for her. "You know, not many people realize the importance of footwork in dueling. When I studied under René," Will continued, now back at her side, handing her the practice sword, "he told me that in old Hollywood, back when the swashbuckling films were in their heyday, the studios used to require the actors to take a class in dance before shooting began because the quick chorography was so similar to sword fighting. He made me practice proper foot action for hours on end, long before he let me put a sword in my hand, real or otherwise. Have you had much experience in dance?"

"I'm classically trained," she shot back.

"But this is no ballroom." He played with the safety tip on his sword's end as he considered her, thinking that teasing her must be one of the most delightful things on earth. "I think, to be on the safe side, I should check your footwork and your stance," he said, stepping deep into her personal space and slowly circling her body.

"Is _that_ what you're checking?" she quipped, at length. She'd meant the remark to come out as sharp and witty, but was dismayed at how breathy her voice sounded even to her own ears.

He stopped before her, so close his chest nearly grazed her breasts, and she sucked in a breath.

"What else would you like me to check, Elizabeth?" Will whispered.

She knew he was toying with her but it did nothing to stop her body from nearly melting with lust. She wanted nothing more than to dispense with the swords and simply have at it, but now she was determined to best him at his own game.

Stepping back away from him, she countered, "My footwork is perfectly capable. Now, en garde."

She lifted her sword to him in a fighting stance, but he just looked her up and down and smiled. "You're adorable," he told her warmly.

She actually looked aghast at his compliment. "I am _not_. Now come over here and fight me."

Will took slow, measured steps towards Elizabeth, watching her watch him and noting her appreciation. For a minute, he'd forgotten he was dressed as a pirate but she certainly hadn't.

When he finally engaged her blade, however, was when the true magic began, and Elizabeth felt it too, her eyes glittering and flashing with challenge as she executed a perfect attaque au fer.

She quickly discovered that Will really was as skilled a fencer as he claimed. He was agile and slick, his movements smooth. Trying to catch her unaware, he made his next move, carrying out a textbook ballestra. He performed the motion with such verve and dash, a thrill zapped through her when his blade connected with hers, the hit reverberating all through her body to places that should be wholly unaffected by swordplay. But she couldn't help it. Her heart was racing and she'd never felt more alive.

Elizabeth answered with a move of her, implementing a flawless advance-lunge. An enthusiastic grin was plastered to Will's lips as he easily blocked it, following his parry with a flourishing riposte. He watched as her lovely little mouth formed into a disappointed frown for but a millisecond before she advanced on him again.

Will surveyed her movements with pure admiration. She was indeed talented, but more than that she had spunk, a fire inside that was matchless. And now, as they fenced in the heat of the closed-up smithy, he was certain he had never laid eyes on a more beautiful, incredible woman.

Their body language was in sync, completely in tune, as the match continued. Though they'd both been facing opponents for years, until this moment, neither had suspected what an aphrodisiac fencing could be. There was a heat simmering between them with each lunge and parry that was nearly combustible as they maneuvered and danced around each other, both trying hard at pretending to be unaffected.

Will carried out a quick, sound redoublement, but Elizabeth was prepared, dropping into a seamless passata-sotto. Even as she did so he wondered if she was aware how she stirred him, how deeply he was convinced that her plush lips, now set hard in determination, were meant for better things, that her tussled hair and cheeks, flushed with effort, brought to his mind images of them engaged in something far more pleasurable than fencing. But in this match, as in life, she was infuriatingly out of reach.

Hoping to upset her timing, Will executed a changement de rythme and, to his surprise, it worked. His lips curled into a grin, his dimple flickering to life and all but devastating Elizabeth. Pure devilry was etched on his face as they locked into a corps à corps, too close to each other for their weapons to be of any use, but coming into glorious physical contact for the first time in the match.

Shivers shot down her spine with each brush of his arm against hers, each graze of his thigh into her hip. He was driving her mad and she suspected he knew it, but she wasn't prepared to give up just yet. With some concentrated effort on her part – and a whole lot of restraint – she managed to escape, engaging his blade once more.

Moving into a seamless passe avant, Elizabeth demonstrated her 'capable footwork' in what even the strictest of masters had to admit was an impeccable forward cross. Will made a tsking sound with his tongue in response that for whatever reason she found wildly provocative.

He sensed she was about to attack, and asked, "Are you sure you want to continue fighting me? Or are you finally ready to give in?", referring to so much more than merely their match. He gave her a hot look, and his voice was low and intimate as he assured her, "I'm _very_ good with my sword, Elizabeth. I'll show you."

She caught his meaning, the double entendre glaringly obvious, but it still accomplished its goal, making her burn and squirm and sorely tempting her to take him up on the offer.

She schooled her expression into polite indifference, but it was just a moment too late. Seeing the effect of his words, he engaged her in an envelopment, sweeping her sword through a full circle, then suggestively stroking her weapon with the edge of his.

"I know just how to maneuver," Will rakishly continued, loving the way he could shake her composure. "How to use all the proper angles. When and how to thrust, with just the right amount of friction."

Everything about him, from his suggestive words, to his taunt hard muscles, to the roguish gleam in his hot dark eyes set off wicked, dirty thoughts in her mind. Elizabeth responded to Will like no other man she had ever known. She felt like she would die if he didn't touch her, kiss her – and right this moment. She had never known a hunger, a sheer need, like the one she felt now, for this man.

Will gazed at Elizabeth and his heart hummed in his chest. She looked hot and bothered and unimaginable sexy, and he knew that he had won, if not yet the sword match then at least this other game they seemed to be playing. But all at once she surprised him, lowering her sword and stepping close into his body.

She smiled alluringly, in a purposeful seduction. "Maybe you're right," she purred. "If you're so talented with your sword, why should I even bother to fight?" She edged closer, mimicking his earlier stance, only this time allowing her chest to press into his. As hoped, Will was driven to distraction – to near desperation.

His attention fell to her mouth, hypnotized by her soft, inviting lips. Never before had he felt such a powerful craving. He was like an addict in need of a hit, wanting nothing more than to devour her – right here, right now.

Elizabeth saw a flash of something electric in his eyes and hesitated for just a moment, caught between instigating her coup de grace and simply giving in to what once had been a ruse. Deciding on the former, she abruptly pushed Will away, raising her sword and lunging toward him, but he recovered from his stupor in time to block her and the game continued.

With a self-satisfied smile, she boasted, "So skilled with your sword, and yet I still seem to be getting the upper hand."

Will returned her smile with a wayward one of his own. "Ahh, but I'm very good with those too," he whispered. "Remember? You said so yourself."

She made no verbal reply, letting an in quartata be her response, but it was unsuccessful, leaving Will open to advance upon her, his eyes intent and determined. Enough teasing, enough playing. He was going to have her – and now. Repeating a changement de rythme that had worked so well before, he suddenly spun about and, with one decisive lunge, achieved a stunning froissement that knocked Elizabeth's sword to the ground.

Without a weapon at her disposal, she retreated but soon had nowhere to go, the smithy's wall at her back and Will closing in on her front. He advanced on her further, pressing the safety tip of his sword to her throat and finally ending the match. He'd won at swords, but that was not the victory he was looking for, and without a second thought he discarded his blade upon the floor.

His body crowded into hers and an immediate, answering desire radiated through him.

He wanted to take her mouth, entice her until her lips were open and pliant beneath his. The need to do so was nearly unconquerable.

"I've just proven my sword skills," Will silkily told her. His voice dropping an octave, in a low seductive whisper, he said, "Now I'll have to show you just what exactly I can do with my hands."

True to his word, he dropped his hand to caress her hip whisper softly, barely a touch at all, and she was immobilized, filled with an overwhelming hunger. Pulling her away from the wall, he slid his other hand down to the small of her back and pressed her close to him. Elizabeth watched the heat move into his eyes and anticipation thrummed through her.

Will couldn't help it, couldn't deny himself any longer. He wanted to kiss, and lick, and taste her – and damned if he wasn't going to do all three.

He lowered his mouth, and she knew they were seconds away from being locked in a passionate embrace. Alarm flooded her veins with each inch his lips progressed. No matter how much she wanted this, she couldn't open herself up yet, not without being sure, not without knowing why…..

Just as his lips hovered over hers, she asked in an almost panic, "Why don't you believe in love?"

Pulling back, she stepped out of his arms and around his body into the center of the room, putting some much needed distance between them.

For a moment he just stood there, his back still to her, then he finally turned around. "Look," he said with a heavy sigh, "it isn't that I don't believe in love. I've just never seen it."

"Never?" Come to think of it, neither had she. Not in her own life. The closest she'd come to witnessing it was with her parents, in those early years of her life before her mother died, but she was so young then she could hardly remember.

"Not a good, functional love. Not the 'I love you, you love me, we'd do anything for each other, happily ever after' kind of love," Will clarified.

"And the rules you've so carefully put in place are to guarantee you never do?"

"No, they're meant so I never have to see any more of the 'one-sided, unrequited, desperate, wasting my life away' sort of love."

He stopped then and looked away from her, but she wasn't about to let it go. Whatever he had just begun to reveal – intentionally or not – she knew was the key to his avoidance of relationships.

She studied him, her eyes intent and probing. Softly, gently, she requested, "Tell me."

He mulled it over for a second or two, but then it all came spilling out, as if his heart willed the words from his mouth. "Remember how I told you I lived in England with my mother until I was twelve?"

"Yes, you stayed behind with her after your parents divorced....until she died."

"My parent never divorced. It wasn't anything as simple as that."

Elizabeth looked at him curiously, compassionately, and for the first time his eyes met hers.

"My father abandoned us. I told you he was a shipwright's apprentice and part-time sailor for hire – which I guess he was – but….." Will trailed off and his eyes grew cloudy, his features brooding. "He was never home, always gone for months at a time, and even when he didn't have a job, he was constantly down at the docks. Always drinking, and sailing, and carousing with the crew – whichever crew he was with at the time. My mother tried to make excuses for him and explain it away, and after a while I suspect she even grew to believe them herself. She said the sea 'bewitched him', but the bottom line was we simply weren't a priority for him."

Will moved closer to Elizabeth, stopping across from her and leaning against the hard anvil. But his gaze avoided hers now, ashamed of what he was revealing – and equally tortured by it.

Shaking his head sadly, he went on. "It should have been my clue. But, when he was home and the mood struck him right, afternoons he would take me down to the pier with him and teach me sailing and shipbuilding. We had a ship all our own we started together," he said, smiling wistfully, in spite of himself. "We never did finish it….I missed my father so much when he was away, but every time he returned, I forgave him just like that. I was just a boy; I looked up to him. He was kind to me and seemed to know so much about the things that interested me – more than anything else the sea, the freedom, the challenge, the peace of it. He told me, 'The sea is in your blood, boy, like it's in mine. You're just like me'."

Will shuddered at the memory, or more correctly the implication behind it, and Elizabeth unconsciously took a step toward him.

"When I was eight," he continued, "he joined up with another crew bound for the Caribbean, but this time he didn't come back. And still he was my idol. I kept telling myself he was a merchant sailor, a good respectable man.….I didn't understand," he shrugged. "But very quickly the scales fell from my eyes."

He ruffled his fingers through the front of his hair distractedly, as if the sweeping motion could cleanse his mind from the anguish that had been his childhood. "He left us alone there, my mother and I, with no source of income," Will finally said, clearly appalled. "I told you, after he left, her 'illness' came. But it wasn't an illness, not physically. She just – she….a nervous breakdown is what they called it. I tried to care for her as best as I could on my own, but I was eight….eight years old." His voice nearly broke and he did the hair sweep again – and again Elizabeth's feet willed her closer.

"My mother had a job as a maid that she managed to function at well enough to bring in some income, and I did odd jobs around the neighborhood after school to help out. It was a hard tiring lifestyle, but it wasn't the money problems that crippled us. It was her depression, that damned abyss of despair, that overshadowed everything."

Elizabeth continued to listen to his story, equal parts horrified and transfixed. Her heart ached hearing what he'd endured, and knowing there was still more she hadn't yet learned. She yearned to comfort him in some way but didn't know how. She couldn't chance interrupting him, not when she knew as surely as she was breathing that this was a story he didn't tell often, if ever at all.

"My mother," Will went on, "she was just so in love with my father, even after all he'd done. She was determined he would come back some day. As the years passed and he didn't, she just gave up. Her pain, his betrayal, it consumed her till she couldn't see anything else….not even me.

When I grew up, I began to understand the reality of our lives, our broken home, my father's choices and the devastation he left behind. It scared me to death to see what my mother had become – what he'd made her – what the destructive relationship with my father had done to her. It…..It just devastated her. It _ruined_ her. She once was a happy, lovely woman, who smiled – how I remember her smiles…..and then she was nothing. By the time I turned twelve, she was barely hanging on to reality. That winter, she came down with a severe cold, but she just kept working and still not sleeping. She never sought treatment; I couldn't convince her, despite the fact that some nights she could hardly breath. Eventually it became pneumonia and….she just stopped fighting. It's true what people say; she just didn't want to try anymore."

Will looked over at Elizabeth, his features contemplative. "My mother would have hated what I do now. She blamed the sea and everything associated with it for taking my father from her…..But it wasn't the sea. It was the booze, and the women, and the blithe, feckless lifestyle that seduced him," he said with disgust. "The plain truth of it is my father was a selfish man."

Elizabeth could take no more and she closed the rest of the distance between them, setting her hand atop his and squeezing it comfortingly. "It must have been difficult for you to come live with him after she died. You had to be feeling all sorts of anger towards him for abandoning your mother, and you. It's only natural."

"Sailing to the Caribbean that first time, I was torn somewhere between hate and love," Will admitted. "I idealized my father for so long when I was little. I wanted his pride and acceptance more than anything. When I grew up – and that happened real fast after he left – I was forced to see the truth of the matter, that he wasn't a real great guy. But he was still my father, and on some level I still wanted his acceptance. It's something I've had to make peace with. By the time I reencountered him after my mother's death, he wanted to make amends for his mistakes, especially as he grew older. I know he regretted a lot of what he'd done, but some things can't be changed……Which is all the more reason to consider the effects of our actions beforehand."

Elizabeth's eyes held his and sudden, sharp understanding dawned. "Your rules."

"I never could come to terms with my mother's desperation, the lengths she was willing to go to, her fragility," he told her, and she rubbed her thumb consolingly across his knuckles. "She knew who my father was, _what_ he was, long before he left us. So why didn't she just kick him out, start her life over? But she wouldn't. She _couldn't_. My mother was a good woman, Elizabeth. But, like a cancer, her love for my father destroyed her."

"So then…..you're afraid of love?" she gently asked.

"No." And finally it was the moment of truth, the moment to lift the cup and reveal his dice. "I'm afraid of hurting someone the way he did her."

"But Will, you wouldn't – "

" 'You're just like me', he said. God forbid," Will implored in horrified disdain. "After she died, I vowed never to get involved with a woman unless I was damn well sure I was serious about sticking around. _That's_ why I have my rules. I don't want to express even the hint of a future, of any kind of commitment, to a woman unless I'm absolutely positive that I'm in it forever. I can't be like my father, _ever_. I can't be the cause of the kind of suffering my mother endured. I mean, why marry her? If my father wanted to be free, didn't want to be tied down, then why did he marry her at all? Why make it seem serious when it's nothing to you? That's the difference. So I came up with a system of rules to be safe, to keep that from ever happening. If I just do this and don't do that, say this but never say that, then everything will be alright."

He looked down at her and his features were so sincere and yet so lost, her heart ached for him.

My God, Elizabeth thought, fighting back tears. Will wasn't trying to avoid commitment. He never had been. He was afraid of entering into the _wrong_ commitment, into a relationship he would later discover wasn't a good fit, that simply wasn't meant to be. And somehow, though ill-fated love affairs were merely a fact of life, Will reasoned that any he might become involved in would be _his_ fault, the consequences _his_ to bear. When it all went south, he and he alone would be the one to blame. He was terrified of repeating the careless mistakes of his father, the cycle of emotional manipulation and agony he witnessed slowly kill his mother.

All at once she saw in his eyes the sad, frightened little boy sitting in the corner, watching his mother cry, after his father had abandoned them yet again. It was heart wrenching and unbearable. She wanted to draw him into her arms and soothe him, for _he_ was the one hurting, not a million imagined women suffering from broken hearts. It was his that had shattered those many years ago.

"That's what I meant when I told you about the Dutchman's Senta, and Tortuga, and the one right woman," Will disclosed, taking her other hand in his. "I made a promise to myself long ago that until I was sure, quite certain I loved a woman, I would never give her any false illusions. I wouldn't do to any woman what I watched my father do to my mother, even long after he was gone. Which meant the rules, distance, detachment, they were all necessary."

But still, so many times at night he imagined how nice it would be if he finally could let his guard down, finally open up and have the sort of emotional closeness he craved. All these years, what he wanted – what he _really_ wanted – was a traditional family, that sort of love and closeness, marriage, children, a wife, and a home. And, with a startling clarity, he realized that he could see all of that and more with her. _She_ had opened him. _She_ had been the catalyst. Until now, he'd never met a woman he was even remotely tempted to take that chance with – and he wanted to so badly with her.

"Oh, Will," Elizabeth said, letting go of his hand to tenderly stroke his arm. "Your rules, the intention behind them, it's admirable, but don't you think – "

"It's important to me, Elizabeth."

He was stubborn….and vulnerable, she recognized it; it was like looking in a mirror.

"Okay then," she responded, her hand moving up his arm to softly caress his shoulder.

His eyes held hers and at length he revealed, "You're the only one I've ever brought home."

She was taken aback, both by the information and because it wasn't at all what she expected him to say. "That's – that's all right. I didn't think you meant anything by it…."

"Didn't I?" he asked, letting go of her and taking several steps away.

She didn't know what to make of that statement, but what she did know was that Will's early life had been nothing but one trauma after another. People kept leaving him, rather intentionally or not, and it most take an awful lot of courage and strength to let someone in again.

"Maybe your rules," she said carefully, "maybe they're about you too, about _you_ not wanting to hurt again."

"I might agree with you in principle, accept none of the women I've ever known _could_ have hurt me. They never came close to touching my heart."

"Perhaps that's true," Elizabeth rationalized, "but maybe it's because you never gave them a chance. You've been so preoccupied, so very worried about a relationship's end, Will, but how could you know there would be one?"

He answered her as simply as if she asked what color was the sky. "Because none of those women were 'the one'."

"But how will you ever find her if you keep yourself closed off, if you keep your heart locked away?"

He wanted to say he'd already found her, wanted to take her in his arms and tell her he was looking at 'the one'. He'd opened up to her, bared his soul, and she'd been caring, supporting, and consoling, like a balm to his tortured heart, even if her analysis had been slightly off. But, in this instance at least, she was correct. It _was_ fear this time that kept him from doing all that and more.

Elizabeth tried a new tactic, bluntly and boldly confronting him with the absolute truth. "You watched your mother's destruction, her quiet suffering at the hands of your father, and now you've made it your personal mission to see that no other woman ever gets her heart broken by a man again – at least not by _you_. It's commendable, Will. It says worlds about who you are, but you can't protect us all. And have you ever considered that your many rules meant to keep women at a distance – keep them from thinking or hoping they mean too much to you – could be the very things that hurt them the most?"

He seemed to consider this and she wondered if her words had been a mistake, adding yet another burden to a man that shouldn't be carrying any; none of them were his.

Her voice was soothing yet strong all the same, commanding his attention, as she said, "No matter how many women you save from heartache, it can't bring your mother back, or correct what happened to her....And, you know, women hurt men too. It's not exclusively the evil of your sex."

She resisted the urge to point out that, in putting her ruined love affair first and essentially giving up on life, his mother had abandoned Will just as much as his father had, only in a different way.

"Mistakes aren't limited to men alone," she told him. "Love can be vicious both ways. It's just the chance we all have to take. But Will," Elizabeth said, crossing the distance he'd created between them, "more important than the philosophy of love and its wrongs and rights is _you_. You've spent your whole life obsessed with your mother's pain, but what about your own? You must see how it's affected you, how it would affect any young child to witness what you did."

"I'm all right," he said stalwartly, selflessly. "I could always take care of myself. _She_ was the one who couldn't. And I won't be like – "

"You're _not_ your father, Will. I've never known anyone less like the description you just gave me." In an instant, Elizabeth bridged the remaining space between them, stopping just short of touching him. "You're warm and caring, supportive and understanding. You are _nothing_ like him. You never could be."

She edged closer to him, now mere inches away. "You're determined to be a hero, Will Turner, and that says a lot of good things about who you are, but sometimes it's alright to just be a man, with failings and flaws, who thinks about his own needs sometimes, who sees what he wants and takes it – damn the consequences. Sometimes _that's_ the right thing to do."

He didn't know if it was how adamantly she'd assured him he was nothing like his father, or if it was the confident, certain way she proclaimed that it was alright to simply be a flawed man instead of a hero, but suddenly he found himself believing her – and desiring her more in that moment than he ever thought it was possible to want anything.

"Take what I want, hmm?"

Her eyes collided with his. Something in the tone of his voice had changed, and heat crackled through her in response to it. "Yes," she said, wishing he would, and hoping above all else that she was, indeed, the thing he wanted.

Setting a hand to her trim waist, he repeated, "Damn the consequences?"

"Damn them," she whispered, leaning toward him, inviting his kiss.

His eyes met hers almost disbelievingly. He had craved this, imagined it a thousand different ways, and now here she was bidding his lips to hers. He placed his hand against the side of her neck, his fingers brushing her skin, making her shiver and her eyes fall closed.

His mouth was lowering to hers for the kiss he so badly craved when his forefinger grazed that golden chain that hung around her neck, the same one she'd always worn since the day he first met her, its mysterious bauble still a mystery concealed inside her shirt.

The progress of his lips halted. This afternoon had been the time for airing secrets, and why not get them all out now? He couldn't say just exactly why, but something compelled him to know once and for all what lie at the chains end.

When his kiss never came, Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open.

"What is this?" Will asked, fiddling with the chain at her neck. "You always wear it."

She regarded him, confused and more than a bit dazed. Why had he stopped?She didn't want him to stop. "It's a necklace," she explained, if a bit impatiently. "It's not important."

"It must be for you to never take it off," he pointed out, his thumb brushing across her cheek.

She felt a wave of desire wash over her at the simple touch. Oh, why was he talking about necklaces when his lips should be busy kissing hers? "It's just – my father gave it to me," she managed distractedly.

"May I see it?" he persisted.

"You want to see it – now?"

"Mm-hmm."

His palm cupped her neck, pressing into the sensitive skin, and all at once she wanted his hands all over her.

"Alright."

Elizabeth reached up, placing her hand atop Will's. Taking hold of it, she slowly led his fingers across her skin down the length of her neck, inhaling slowly, lost in the magic of his hand skimming over her.

She held his gaze unremitting as she brought his hand past her collarbone, but his eyes fell to watch the path of his fingers, his blood heating with naked lust as she led them down her chest.

Elizabeth felt a nearly overwhelming mélange of sensations when Will's fingers touched the swell of her breast: his warm breath falling across her neck; the rough weight of his hand; his heat; his scent, so male, so completely Will. But he'd asked to see her necklace. And so she would show it to him, before anything else.

She let go of his hand, her fingers dipping down into her cleavage to withdraw the necklace. And still he kept his fingers pressed to her chest. He seemed to be momentarily paralyzed, unable to move even if he wanted to – which he definitely did not…..Until he saw it.

His eyes narrowing in wonder, Will removed his hand from Elizabeth to gently cradle the golden coin that hung at the chains end. It was just as he remembered it: three progressively smaller circles adorned with swirls and Vs and various other etchings along their outer edge – all looking vaguely Central American – with a large menacing skill in the middle.

Her attention now focused on the pendant, Elizabeth explained, "It was a gift, from my father, around the time he first began foisting Ja – " She stopped short of admitting the rest, that it had been an appeasement token meant to pacify her after Weatherby started his aggressive attempts to push James at her. "He meant to make amends after ….an argument," she tactfully corrected, which was still the truth. "He found it in an antique shop in London." She ran her thumb over the face of the skull in awe. "A real pirate medallion, can you imagine? In my entire adult lifetime, this was my father's only concession to the woman I really am. That's why I wear it everyday, that and….there's just something that draws me to it; I can't explain."

Will's fingers twisted, turning the medallion in his hand, and she looked up at him, taking in his startled expression for the first time.

"Will, what's the matter?" she asked as he examined the right upper quadrant of the coin's back, polishing his forefinger over the pronounced gouge clearly visible there.

"It's mine."

"What?" This time it was Elizabeth's eyes that crinkled in confusion.

"The medallion, this very same one, it was mine."

"I don't understand."

"My father always said I had the sea in my blood and he meant it, literally. Apparently…ah…my ancestors were actually pirates," he divulged, sounding not nearly as proud as she would have been. "And this medallion – supposedly a part of a treasure my great, great, great someone ransacked – was passed down to the eldest male in my family for centuries. My father gave it to me just before he left, and I kept it all those years – wore it everyday, like you – even after my opinion of him changed; it was the only thing I had left of him. But finally, near the end, when my mother was too sick to work I had to pawn it for grocery money. I haven't seen it since. Until now…..It's….It's…."

"_Amazing_," she finished. "It's amazing that _I_ would be the one to receive it, and…."

"And after all these years it would return here to me," Will concluded.

"Here," Elizabeth said, her fingers displacing the stray tendrils of hair that had fallen at her neck as she searched for the chains clasp. "You must take it. It's yours."

_There's just something that draws me to it_, her words repeated in his head.

Will put his hand over hers to stop her. "No. It's yours now."" He rather liked the thought of her wearing a trinket that had been in his family for generations, that was a symbol of the Turner bloodline. It seemed fitting.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he answered, pressing the coin back to her chest and letting it slip through his fingers. Hanging free on the chain once more, the medallion fell back down to rest cradled between her breasts – and he thought it all the more fitting.

"So you really _are_ a pirate? It should come as no surprise," Elizabeth smiled to herself.

Will didn't know what she was talking about, but the smile on her lips was dangerous to his resistance, and he took several steps back. Look what already had nearly happened. If he had a shot with her, if he actually had a chance to kiss her, and touch her, and hold her in his arms, he certainly wasn't going to do so for the first time in a dark, dusty smithy.

"You make a good pirate," she said, her voice soft and alluring, as her eyes trailed him up and down. "The kind I like anyway." If he were hers, on occasion she'd make him wear the outfit to bed – what fantasy fulfillment that would be! With the look he gave her seemed as if he'd read her mind.

Up until that moment, Will had again forgotten he was still wearing the outfit, but the heat in her eyes as they swept over his body was a steamy reminder. No matter what she said, Elizabeth had a serious pirate fetish, not that he minded – pirate _was_ in his blood. And the things he could do to her in this costume, the sort of role-play they could have, would feed her fantasy for years…..But not yet.

"I'll just take this off for now," he remarked in quiet amusement.

"So," Elizabeth said, as he gathered their swords from the floor, "what's in store for us tonight?"

Will crossed the room to stand before her, looking as sexy as ever in the costume that must have been designed by a woman. He shot her a hot, wicked smile. "I don't know. You tell me."

* * *

AN: Wow, that was a long one! But there was a lot to cover in this chapter: the smithy; Will and Elizabeth sword fighting; the truth of Will's past revealed and why he has issues with women and relationships; and my take on the Medallion/Below Deck scene.

I haven't done so in a while, but thank you for all of your kind reviews. I'm glad you like it so far. I know many of you have expressed the desire to see Will and Elizabeth get together already, but when I first outlined this story I really wanted to stay true to the original characters. And, remember, in the actual Pirates film they were madly in love from the very beginning but it took them literally years to do anything about it. So I thought it was important in my story to show a slow build of that chemistry and connection but not jump into anything physical too soon. What that means is a lot of "almost moments" and forward then backward steps. But take heart: they will reach a milestone next chapter.


	10. Destiny Catching Up

You know I'm gonna find a way to let you have your way with me  
You know I'm gonna find the time to catch your hand and make you stay

- D. Brown

* * *

Even as they locked up the smithy, Elizabeth had still refused to tell Will the nature of the 'First' she planned to accomplish tonight, though she'd let slip it would take place in town. Still, they'd mutually decided to return to the Pearl to shower and change and generally make themselves more presentable after their afternoon of fencing.

Will was left in suspense the entire time he did all three, and afterwards while he waited for Elizabeth's call telling him she was ready. She'd been so vague and distinctly mischievous about where they going – telling him only to 'dress for going out' – he was somewhat uneasy over what the evening had in store. Nevertheless, he was glad to be getting back to her list of new experiences. After all that's what this holiday was supposed to be about. True enough, when he'd come up with the idea he would have agreed to anything to get her to stay, but he really did want to introduce her to the real world, and enjoyment, and simply living her life as she saw fit – all the things that seemed to be passing her by. So whatever it was she planned to do, he would go along with it. Where Elizabeth was concerned, 'no' was simply not a word in his vocabulary.

He continued, phone in hand, to muse on the evening to come and the woman herself but he never did get her call. She simply found him sitting beside the pool in the courtyard just beyond their cabanas, obviously waiting for her.

Will took one look at Elizabeth and unconsciously came to his feet. She was dressed in a deep teal sleeveless halter top that softly cupped each breast, dipping into a low V and revealing a tantalizing peek of cleavage. The shirt gently skimmed her hips, giving way to a black flounce skirt that stopped four or so inches above her knee. Her long legs were bare – just the way he liked them – with strappy healed sandals on her feet. She was absolutely luscious, and his gaze openly flitted up and down her body, proving as much, but he just couldn't help himself.

"You look….amazing," he told her, his voice betraying awe – and hunger.

"It was Anna's," she explained, feeling her body heat beneath his intense, thorough gaze.

"I – I don't remember ever seeing her wear it, but I promise you she never made it look the way that you do."

Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you. You look rather amazing yourself."

He'd pulled back his chocolate curls into a low ponytail again, but several rebellious strands fell loose, framing his face, making him look wild, just a little bit dangerous, and altogether more handsome than any man had a right to be. She wondered for a moment if the dark facial hair skirting his upper lip and falling into a perfectly maintained goatee beneath his lower lip would tickle if he kissed her, or scrape across her skin in a hot teasing burn. She nearly moaned out loud at the thought. Goodness, she had to get a hold of herself. She'd never come close to guttural utterances with James, and Will wasn't even touching her.

"So," she said, jumping into conversation to keep her wayward mind busy, "I thought I could complete two firsts tonight."

Will nodded. "That's very efficient."

Lest he think she wanted to get them over with in a hurry, thus expediting her return home, she added, "Well, it's a very long list. It could take me months to get through – if not longer."

His brow lifted a fraction at her words. They surprised, but indescribably pleased, him. Perhaps he did have a chance after all….at _something_ with her anyway. And tonight, wherever they were going, whatever they were doing, he intended on romancing her.

"Anyway, I…." She hesitated for just a second before boldly stating, "I want to go to a bar. I've never been; I was never allowed. And not a restaurant that serves liqueur, but an honest to goodness bar. And……And, while I'm there, I want to have my first drink." She said the last part more quietly and with far less bravado.

"Wait," Will stopped her. "Did you say you've never had a drink?"

She shook her head 'no', looking a little embarrassed.

In any other circumstance he would've let the subject drop to keep her from feeling uncomfortable, but he was too dumbfounded at the moment to think of such things. "I can understand the whole bar thing, but you've never had a drink of any kind?"

Again she silently shook her head.

"I don't get it. Between all the state dinners and grandiose balls you've been to, you must have had _something_. I mean, isn't half the point of those things for everyone to get free drinks."

Elizabeth laughed. Of course he was wrong, and nobody at any of the aforementioned gatherings would have a bit of trouble affording their own drinks, but still most of the males present – and half the females, come to think of it – did leave the late-night balls with a least a very healthy buzz.

"You may have something there," she admitted. "But Father never allowed it with me. He thought it was 'unbecoming' for a woman to drink hard liquor. In fact, all the women at my father's gatherings were only served wine and the men did their heavy drinking apart from us, usually in my father's study. I know it sounds antiquated and sexiest – and it was – but that's just how he did things. And on top of that my mother was a teetotaler, which I'm told means she didn't believe in drinking alcohol of _any_ kind. I guess, before I was born, my uncle was quite the alcoholic, and when drunk he used to beat my aunt. It was a horrible situation, but eventually the drinking caught up to him. His liver gave out and he died, but my mother never got over it. She made my father promise to never allow my so much as a sip of alcohol for fear the disease would plague me too. Of course I understand they say alcoholism can be genetic, but he was an uncle by marriage, husband to my mother's sister, so I never could quite figure the connection. But my father was unrelenting." She shrugged. "I suppose over the years I could have snuck something, but the idea of hiding whisky in shoeboxes and drinking alone in my room did seem awfully sick and depressing. But now it's different. That's why I want to go to a real bar and have the whole experience."

Will had to fight a smile during Elizabeth's longwinded explanation. How a woman could be so sexy and so adorable at the same time was beyond him, but she managed to pull it off in spades. He couldn't say he was crazy about the idea of her in an 'honest to goodness bar'. He was still absorbing the fact that she'd never drank – not so much as a sip – and he was leery about her starting now, tonight, with him. But if she was determined, and she seemed to be, he wouldn't try to stifle her and at the very least would be there to protect her. One thing was for sure though: he would be a something of teetotaler himself tonight; they couldn't afford for them both to lose their heads.

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll take you to a bar. I think maybe the – "

"I know there's the Empress, and I do want to go there sometime – with the whole underwater, inside a pirate ship theme I've got to see it soon – but that's more of a nightclub. Tonight I want to have the local bar, small town pub experience."

Man, she was cute. He was utterly charmed by her. He'd come to find she sometimes viewed the world through a tint of happy clichés without a full idea of what she could be letting herself in for – like jumping off that boat in the middle of the ocean, going home with a strange man, and now wanting to go to a seedy bar and get drunk – but it was only because she'd never been out in the world or exposed to its sordid side. And the last was something he intended to remain the case.

"Where were you thinking then?" he asked her, knowing her well enough to realize she already had a place in mind.

"I've heard some of the men talking about Calypso." Will opened his mouth to protest, but Elizabeth cut him off. "I know that's where they spend all their free time, so there's no point in saying otherwise. I want to go there, just like everyone else." Stepping closer, she softly asked, "Take me there, Will."

He wondered if she'd figured out how easy it was for her to manipulate him, but he'd bet she had no idea of the effect of one softly spoken word from her lips or the gentle sidling closer of her body to his.

"Alright. I'll take you," Will relented. He mentally went through the days of the week, realizing there wouldn't be another liar's dice game for two more nights, so it should be relatively tame this evening. "But there's something you should know. Calypso isn't an ordinary bar. It's owned by a woman, Tia Dalma, who is….rather unique."

Elizabeth was intrigued by his cryptic words. "How so?"

"She's believes she's a clairvoyant, a mystic, a psychic – whatever you want to call it."

"Ooh, how exciting," she beamed. "But _you_ don't believe she is?"

That was a hard one to answer. For years, he would have easily said 'no', but Tia had foreseen a touch of destiny for him the night he met Elizabeth, just minutes in fact before he discovered her passed out on the pier. He found it difficult to argue with that.

"I don't know. She seems to have been right in her predictions at least one time."

Elizabeth was even more intrigued by that statement, but she let it pass. "Well I for one can't wait. Maybe she'll read my future."

Will wasn't sure he wanted Tia to do that, as odds were her future involved palatial estates, the crown of a queen, and a houseful of children by that bastard Norrington – a future he couldn't bear to think about, not yet, not tonight.

* * *

The ride to Calypso was pure torture for Will. After their almost-kiss on the beach, and all that had nearly happened at the smithy, holding back was already difficult. Then seeing her tonight, dressed in such an attractive way, restraint was near unattainable. In response to her delighted squeals, he took each bend and dip of the road faster than the last, Elizabeth holding her body tightly to his. Her laughter warmed him from the inside out, but all he could think about as her thighs gripped his was if she was wearing any underwear beneath that skirt.

What was the matter with him? Of course he'd never let on that was where his thoughts lie. He'd treat Elizabeth with respect – and he felt genuine respect for her, respect and whole lot of affection. But he felt desire too, desire that wouldn't be ignored. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman, _anything_. It was becoming increasingly impossible to reign that in. But he would have to. She'd chosen tonight as her introduction into drinking. Now was definitely not the time to let his control slip.

Will pulled the bike to a stop in front of the bar and Elizabeth gingerly got off, righting her skirt where the wind had greedily blown it up her leg. It seemed even the forces of nature were determined to tempt him. He took respite in securing the Lambretta, but she came up behind him, unnoticed until their shoulders touched.

Reaching around him to the bike's side, she ran her finger empathically along the scratch he still hadn't found time to repair. "I am sorry, Will. I know how important the bike is to you."

He took her hand from the Lambretta, folding it into his. "You're more important to me," he disclosed, reminding her of the fact that all that mattered to him was that _she_ had survived that night unharmed. In truth, he wasn't sure if he wanted to remove the scratch. It would be something to remember Elizabeth by when she was gone. "Besides, I think it gives her character."

He was rewarded with a trickle of Elizabeth's soft laughter before she stopped, looking up at Calypso's weathered wooden sign. "This is perfect," she proclaimed. "Exactly what I wanted. Just the sort of place Father would never let me in."

"Yeah, but I'm going to warn you ahead of time. This isn't exactly up to the standards you're used to. It's actually kind of a dive."

"But all of you love it," she pointed out.

He had no argument there. For better or worse, Calypso had become their home away from home.

Will reached for the handle but, before his hand got anywhere near it, the door flew open on a gust of wind in what had otherwise been a calm, serene night. Tia Dalma stood but a few feet away, her eyes glued to them with a look of satisfaction, like she'd been expecting them and they'd at last arrived.

At his side, Elizabeth had either grown suddenly timid or was simply taken aback by her surroundings, their dramatic entrance, and the Obeah woman who was slowly approaching.

Tia stopped before them and her mouth formed into a wide smile, but her eyes held more than a hint of her usual mystery. "William, your destiny has caught up to you. I see you've succumb to fate," she said, her tone obviously pleased.

Elizabeth may not know what she was referring to, but Will did. They'd had this conversation once before, the morning he came to pick up his BlackBerry.

Her none too subtle insinuation came in loud and clear, but he laughed it off. "I've succumb to nothing and no one, as always." She gave him a look that unmistakably conveyed she did not believe a word of what he said, but he continued anyway. "Tia Dalma, I'd like you to meet – "

"Elizabeth _Swann_," she cut him off, stepping forward and reaching out to take her hand.

Elizabeth felt a cold chill of trepidation. How could she know her? It was strange, eerie, but everything about this woman was. Her hair was in thick, heavy braided dreadlocks, similar to Jack's. Round her neck, Tia wore strands of beaded necklaces, their trinkets jostling and clanging together when she stepped forward to grasp her hand. Her eyes were lined with the same shade – black as coal – that colored her lips, whether in some statement of fashion or an attempt to look mysterious Elizabeth could not stay, but she'd certainly achieved the latter. Was she truly physic.....or was there a more rational explanation? At the moment, she didn't know which she preferred.

Turning to him, she asked in apprehension, "Will? Did – "

"Elizabeth, I swear I didn't tell her who you are," he said anxiously.

That his statement was truthful and sincere was obvious to her. So was the fact that he was clearly alarmed over the possibility that she might be mad at him.

"No, I know you wouldn't," she softly replied, reclaiming her hand from Tia and placing it gently on Will's forearm.

Tia Dalma watched the exchange in amusement, finally announcing in her heavily accented voice, "No need for anyone to be telling me things I already know. I know her name and more besides." Her next comment she directed to Elizabeth alone. "I knew you were coming. I've known for some time."

Will took Elizabeth's hand in his, deciding to let that go. You never got a straight answer out of Tia anyhow. "We've come tonight because Elizabeth wanted – "

"I know that too," she scoffed. "Go. Find a table. Sit down."

They hadn't had dinner, or really even lunch, and Will was hoping to hold off Elizabeth's drinking until he could get some food in her stomach. But Calypso didn't serve meals, just light snacks and even that sparingly. Everyone came here for one reason only, and it wasn't the food. "We haven't had anything to eat. I was hoping – "

"I've already prepared you something," Tia said, with an enigmatic smile.

Will and Elizabeth exchanged a perplexed look, as no one could have known of their plans for the evening, but when they looked back over to Tia she was gone. Will shrugged and led Elizabeth to a cozy table in a shadowed corner.

She looked somewhat spooked, and so he attempted to set her mind at ease. "Tia knew who you were because she's a photographer. She covered your visit to Brazil." He thought back to what she'd told him. "Or she was there covering something else and then saw you. I'm not sure. Either way, that's how she found out. She was the one who told me who you were."

"And then you Googled me to be sure," Elizabeth filled in the blanks. "You don't trust her."

"I wouldn't say that. I just don't believe she has powers."

Elizabeth didn't know what to believe. Will's explanation could be true, but then Tia had known other things there was no simple rationalization for.

"She said she's known for some time that I'd be coming, and I've a feeling she meant to the island, not just here in her bar," Elizabeth told him. "How could she know I planned to run away, Will? I told no one. I didn't even know myself until about five minutes before I jumped off the ship."

He had no answer for her. "I don't know."

"Maybe she _is_ physic." Elizabeth pondered that a moment, eyeing Tia Dalma where she now stood near the bar. Then she grinned excitedly. "I'm going to go get a reading."

Will's disbelief in Tia's physic abilities was growing more and more hazy, but not enough to go in for all that. Still, he was glad Elizabeth seemed to be her old self again. "Good. For a minute there I thought you might be afraid of her."

Elizabeth shot him a look of pretended offense. "William Turner, I'm not afraid of anything."

This time, Will grinned. "Duly noted. But hurry back. I want you all to myself tonight."

Elizabeth gave him a pleased smile and then headed off to the bar.

He watched her as she walked across the room and bit back a laugh at the absurd incongruity of a princess in such surroundings. Yet he wasn't worried about how their encounter might turn out. Princess or not, Elizabeth could hold her own. And so he took the opportunity to enjoy the unparalleled sight of her – the slight sashay as she moved, the flutter of her hair…..Beautiful didn't begin to describe her.

Elizabeth approached Tia Dalma and, though the woman's back was to her when she arrived, she spun around with a light of expectation in her eyes, as if she already knew this conversation would take place.

But Elizabeth wouldn't allow herself to become shaken. "What is it you think you know about me?" she asked.

"More than most. I know who you, where you come from, and what's inside here," she answered, pointing to her heart. "Your thoughts, your dreams. Things that no one else knows….except maybe William, now."

Elizabeth studied Tia's face carefully. In that moment, she wanted to believe her, wanted it very badly. "_Really_?"

Tia Dalma seemed to have ignored the question, walking behind the bar and bending to retrieve a glass jar. "Handmade soaps," she said. "I make them myself and sell them afternoons in a small stand in the marketplace." She dug through the jar, evidently searching amongst the cakes of soap for a particular bar. Withdrawing her hand, she placed the lavender soap into Elizabeth's palm. "Your favorite scent." It was a statement not an inquiry, and Elizabeth realized Tia had answered her question after all.

"Thank you," she responded, slipping the fragrant proof of Tia's ability into her purse. "What else do you know about me? Something harder." Even if the woman might be telling the truth about her powers, Elizabeth wouldn't shy away from testing them.

Tia smiled knowingly, more than happy to provide further evidence, this time of a more personal nature. "Your fiancé leaves you cold as a fish. But William, _dear William_….You'd like to test the strength of the fire he ignites in you."

Elizabeth's face flushed and her eyes fell to the bar, to the rows of additional glass jars behind it, anywhere but into the face of the woman who seemed to read her innermost longings. "I – I don't….I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?"

"No. Not at all," she lied.

Tia ignored the obvious falsehood. Stepping back around the bar, she leaned in close and instructed, "Give him your heart and be together always. He is your pirate. He's what you've been waiting for."

"I…." Her accuracy was unnerving, and Elizabeth wasn't yet prepared to have this conversation with anyone – not even herself. "I don't know what wrong idea you have but, as you've perceived, I am engaged to another man."

"Piff," she replied, waving her hand in dismissal. "If you want him so much, why did you run away? And why are you here now?"

Since she had no good answer for that, Elizabeth changed the subject. "Will thought you might tell me my future."

"Your future's for you to discover, not to simply be told."

"Ah. So you don't know it then."

Tia snorted haughtily, before sharply saying, "I do….and I think you do too." Slipping her hand into the pocket of her long full skirt, she removed a small black box in the shape of an octagon. "I gave this to Jack once, but I won it back in a game of Liar's Dice," she proudly laughed.

Liar's Dice again. "Is that the only game of chance around here?" Elizabeth asked in exasperation.

"Now it belongs to you."

At that, Elizabeth turned her attention to the domed lid of the box. "What is it?"

Tia set it on the bar and let her examine it. Elizabeth gently lifted the lid, wondering what she'd find underneath, and was more than a little disappointed at the discovery. There was a dial and a needle, all the standard working components. The only thing that set it apart from the ordinary was the crop of hand painted stars on the underside of the lid's dome. "A compass?"

"Not just any compass," Tia informed. "It doesn't point north."

"Then….what does it point to?"

"To the thing you want most, whatever it is you desire the most at that particular moment in time. Could be a person, could be an object, could be a means to an end – like the car that will drive you home." She snapped the lid closed and placed the compass in Elizabeth's hand. "Let's see where your heart lies."

Elizabeth looked from Tia to the compass in her palm. Deep down, she knew what her heart – and her body, and everything else in her – wanted. But could she take the chance of the little brass needle making that public? Then again, if Tia Dalma really was a physic, or a sorceress, or whatever it was, and this compass really was magical, wouldn't it be nice to have some sort of an otherworldly confirmation of what she already suspected?

Tentatively, she peeled back the lid, watching the needle wiggle and swing and come to a dead stop…..pointing directly at Will. Elizabeth looked up at Tia in amazement. "How does it work? How did you do that?"

"_I_ didn't. _You_ did."

"I….." She stared down at the compass. "You can't mention this to Will."

Elizabeth looked almost frightened, glancing at Tia, then back to the needle before slamming it shut.

"Why fight it, child?" Tia asked her. "Give in to your destiny."

Elizabeth gave her one last studying look then, clutching the compass in her hand, turned and retreated to her table.

Will immediately smiled as she sank into the chair across from him. "You seemed deep in conversation. What were you two talking about?"

"Destiny."

"She told you your future then?"

"No. She said I had to discover it on my own."

He laughed cynically. "Smart. It's a fine way to avoid being sued when a prediction fails to come to fruition."

"She gave me this," Elizabeth said, placing the hand still holding the mysterious box up on the tabletop.

He looked down at it and frowned. "A compass? That's an odd gift."

She flipped up the cover and it promptly swayed to a stop on Will again, though she was now sitting at a different angle. There was no way this was some sort of magnetic trick then. "Yes. It is strange."

"Here. Let me see it better."

Elizabeth held out the compass for Will to inspect, the needle still pointing squarely at him.

He shook his head. "It doesn't even point north. Must be broken."

She quickly clicked the lid closed and almost guiltily shoved the compass into her purse. "Forget about that," she said, offering him a captivating smile. "I came for a drink. Let's have one."

"You know, there's nothing wrong with being clean and sober," Will argued, hoping to sway her from the idea. It gave him the awkward feeling that he was somehow sullying her, leading her into corruption.

_And there's nothing wrong with being celibate_, her mind silently added, but all at once she yearned to know what it would feel like to be neither one. "You're not going to start telling me what I should and shouldn't do are you?"

She said it in jest but he could hear the slight trace of hurt behind the joking accusation. "Never. I just think we should eat something first."

"Alright then," she beamed at Will, her hope in him restored.

He looked down at her, his eyes running over the delicate features of her face. She really was lovely….uncomfortably stunning was more like it. And, with her smile, his attention was drawn to her pretty lips. She continued to talk to him and, though he listened, his eyes fell from her mouth to her chin, gliding down her neck to the snug bodice of her shirt and how very nicely it clung to the contours of her chest. She leaned forward a bit, and the material gaped, offering him a generous view of the swell of her breasts. His pulse kicked up and he forced his eyes away, fighting the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless – and dinner hadn't even arrived yet.

Elizabeth had sensed his distraction while she was talking, but by now it was quite obvious as he scratched the back of his neck and looked absently about the room – anywhere but at her. "Well, now I'm highly offended," she said facetiously. "I'm clearly very dull company, as I can't seem to hold your interest and you obviously haven't been listening to a word I've said."

That brought his eyes back to her. The idea that he found her boring was ludicrous. Even as he pried his gaze away from her too tempting body, he was acutely aware of her presence. "I have been listening," he insisted. "You said you think you'd like your first drink to be something with rum in it, like in all your pirate stories. Then you said everyone back home would have a fit at the idea of you sipping rum in a darkened bar, and you rather enjoyed the thought of that."

Elizabeth smiled. He _had_ been listening, quite thoroughly in fact.

"I can't say I myself am crazy about the rum part of it," Will admitted. Pulling his chair closer to hers, he revealed, "But I do like sitting next to you in the dark of this room – any room – especially when you're wearing an outfit like that."

He had such an easy charm about him, Elizabeth wondered if he even had to try. She pushed her hair back behind her shoulder, her fingers lingering at her neck as her elbow rested against the table. "You like it all that much?"

"I do." He paused for effect before adding, "Immensely," uttering the word in a tone full of suggestion.

Her hand glided down her neck to her chest, her fingers skimming through her cleavage before falling to rest in her lap. He was fairly certain she wasn't doing this to him on purpose, but the move still succeeded in drawing his gaze irrevocably right back where it had been – only this time he didn't even try to make himself look away.

"Hmm. And all this time I'd been told men liked women best in no clothes at all," Elizabeth teased.

Will laughed, soft and low, and her heart turned over.

At that moment, the food arrived. Heaping plates of jerk chicken and shrimp; something called coconut stew that she discovered was a sort of a vegetable soup made with coconut milk; and coco bread, a starchy and sweet bread perfect for dipping into the stew. Everything tasted as delicious as it looked and Elizabeth, never one to be shy about her appetite, dug in with as much fervor as Will.

As they continued to talk and laugh their way through the meal, they both unknowingly shared the same thought: how very much this meal was symbolic of their lives up till now; neither one realized how starving they were until a feast had been set before them. Elizabeth had opened Will's heart to love and closeness in a way he'd never before known. Yet, until he met her, he had no idea how much he yearned for just such a relationship. And Will in turn had given Elizabeth the freedom she so craved and introduced her to hidden desires she'd never even known existed until encountering him.

It was heavy thinking for such a place as Calypso, but good food and conversation flowed, and even doing something as simple as eating dinner out together, they shared such a deep connection. By this point, they could even finish each other's thoughts, which led them both to further reflections of how very perfectly matched they were, how much they felt for one another – though neither was ready to admit it – and how very much the other had changed their life.

To Will, Elizabeth was sweet, courageous, and so very wonderful. She was a phenomenal woman who captured every bit of his interest. She made him laugh _and_ turned him on. What more could a man ask for? Whenever he looked at her, the warmth he felt flood his body and pool at his heart was too powerful to overcome even if he wanted to – which he didn't. But suddenly feeling so much for a woman and having no idea of where _her_ heart stood was a vulnerable and dangerous position that kept him from revealing too much too fast. Still, armed guards couldn't have pried him away from her tonight. No, tonight he was going to enjoy her face, her smile, her company…..And, if he was lucky, maybe even touch her, hold her in his arms, before the evening was through. He would take it slow and safe and see how she responded. But, especially after his admissions this afternoon, he had to make her see that he was in it for the long haul. If someone was going to be leaving, that someone would be her.

Elizabeth looked up to find his intense sable eyes regarding her. "What?" she asked.

He gave her a private smile. "I was just thinking back to the night I met you, high as a kite on whatever drug they'd given you. I thought you were drunk then, and I was just wondering what the difference would be between high-Elizabeth and drunken-Elizabeth. And then I realized I'm about to find out."

She bit down on her lower lip to stifle her laughter. "I'm not going to get drunk, Will, just try one simple drink. You don't have to worry."

Again, it struck her how such protectiveness from anyone else would anger her, but in Will she found it endearing. Perhaps because it must mean he cared for her on some level, and to have the affections of such a man was indeed a prize. Will was caring and supportive, so sensitive to her wishes and needs. On top of all that, every time she was with him, he was completely attentive to everything she said, every little gesture she made. Taking such qualities and uniting them within the must physically breathtaking man she'd ever seen was one intoxicating combination, and she found herself pushing the empty dishes aside, leaning forward, and brushing away a lock of hair that had tumbled onto his forehead – only after first twining it about her finger.

It was a flirty gesture and Elizabeth could already tell, with or without a drink, she was heading toward crossing a line tonight, but she couldn't help it. She felt such an overwhelming attraction to Will…and, more than anything, she wanted to act on it. She just didn't know if she dared.

Thankfully a waitress arrived at their table to clear away the dishes and take their drink orders, offering a much needed distraction from her wicked thoughts. However, it only took her a moment to discover this wasn't the sort of diversion she'd originally hoped for.

This woman, who Elizabeth now noticed was dressed quite inappropriately for work unless her profession was in the field of prostitution, looked at Will as if he were the next course on the menu. And, as if her ravenous, tastelessly obvious looks weren't enough, she came to stand so closely beside him that, from his vantage point – sitting while she stood – her ample breasts were nearly shoved in his face.

"Hello, Will," she purred.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Jeannette." He endured this sort of behavior every time he came to Calypso. He should have seen it coming, but he really hadn't expected such a scene with her tonight and inwardly winced at Elizabeth's reaction. He dared to glance her way, but her entire focus was on the other woman, her eyes clouded with some emotion – anger, hostility….jealousy? Whatever it was, it was clearly lethal.

"What's your pleasure?" Jeannette asked. When he didn't respond, she rubbed against him.

Will belatedly looked back up at her. "Hmm?"

"Who, um – _what_ are you having tonight? I might make a suggestion," she offered, bending and tilting her upper arms at such an angle as to press her breasts together, apparently a view he was meant to admire. The woman was about as subtle as Jack.

"Jeannette!" Tia Dalma's accentuated intonation could be heard from all the way across the bar.

"Just one moment," she told Will in a syrupy voice. "Duty calls."

She disappeared across the room, leaving him alone with Elizabeth, who sat drumming her fingers against the table. He finally screwed up the courage to turn and face her.

"Friend of yours?" she asked.

"I wouldn't say that exactly."

She scoffed. "Really, Will, you can do much better."

She'd worked to make her voice sound indifferent, but Will saw through the act and a smile touched his lips. "Why, Elizabeth. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous."

"No," she coolly replied. "Just disappointed in your poor taste."

"I'm glad to hear it. Because there has never been anything between Jeannette and me," he said in complete seriousness. "Not one night, not one hour, not even one kiss. And to prove it," he added, pushing his chair as close to hers as was physically possible, "I'll make it absolutely clear to her that I'm here with you tonight."

A hot little buzz shot through her at his words….or the way he said them….or his nearness, or maybe a combination of all three. Whatever it was, she was suddenly glad Jeannette had come – that is, until she returned to their table.

Will dutifully stretched his arm across the back of Elizabeth's chair. Little did she know he'd been wanting to do so all night.

Whatever Tia had said to Jeannette, her mannerisms were tempered, even more so now that she saw Will cuddled up to Elizabeth. "So I hear you're the girl who's been staying with Will."

Elizabeth hadn't expected that and was a little taken aback, both at being a subject of gossip here on the island and at the implication behind the statement. "Staying with him? No. I have a place of my own"

Her answer seemed to please Jeannette, far too much for Elizabeth's likening, and the barmaid's you-can-have-me-whenever-you-want-me smile was once again directed at Will.

"Except for that one night," Elizabeth corrected, loudly enough to regain the other woman's attention. When she was certain she had it, she dreamily repeated, "Yes, there was that one night. But you know how it is. Will being who he is….and his bed being _so very_ comfortable."

Now the smile was gone, Elizabeth thought in satisfaction. "I'll have a piña colada," she curtly informed her. "Will?" she asked, turning to him. He gaped at her with his mouth wide open. "Will?"

"Yeah," he said, breaking from his stupor. "Yeah. Just bring me a beer," he told Jeannette, who walked away a defeated soul.

"Wow," Will said to Elizabeth. "That was….._wow_. Of course you know now what she thinks," he warned. "And it was absolutely unnecessary to ruin your reputation that way since, as I told you, _nothing_ has ever happened between us."

She gave him a self-satisfied smile, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "And now it never will."

She was quite a woman. Then again, Will knew that thinking he was sleeping with Elizabeth wouldn't stop Jeanette from still pursuing him, but he didn't say as much aloud. He was too busy enjoying the fact that she had so publicly claimed him as her own, marking him as her territory and warning all other women to stay away. Oh, and how he wanted to be hers. Never more so than in that moment as her crossed arms lifted and set off her breasts to perfection – drawing his attention in a way Jeanette never could – while her bold words still hung in the air.

Will's gaze skittered down the slender column of her neck to stare openly, hungrily. Her cheeks flushed attractively, but she didn't stiffen or move away as he inched closer. They had spent the evening talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. It was only natural what would come next – and she wanted it, wanted his kisses, and touches, and….everything else.

Their après-dinner drinks arrived then, brought by Giselle this time, and accompanied by dessert. "Caribbean Chocolate Bananas, courtesy of Tia Dalma," she explained.

Elizabeth picked up her napkin from the table to make room as the woman set their drinks and the one dessert plate down before them. Evidently there were meant to share.

"Jack didn't come with you tonight?" Giselle asked Will.

"No. I imagine he has plans of his own," he replied noncommittally.

"Well tell him I'm looking forward to Liar's Dice. The last game turned out to be a whole lot of fun," she gushed.

This was quickly becoming another yikes moment. Elizabeth had grown to be close friends with Anamaria. The last thing she needed to hear was about Jack's infidelity. Was everyone here determined to ruin their evening?

As soon as she walked away, Will apologized. "I wish you didn't have to hear that. Jack can be a bit of a prat when it comes to women."

"So I assumed," Elizabeth assured him, to his relief not at all mad. "But it's really no business of mine."

She bent to sample her drink – her first one ever – beneath Will's watchful gaze. "It's good," she announced. "Really good." She took another sip and, in the time it took her to swallow, suddenly viewed the exchange with Giselle through his point of view. To Will, it must seem Anna was being used and betrayed in much the same way his mother had been.

"I said it wasn't any of my business, but I know you must hate it, watching Jack do that to a woman. But if it's any consolation, I believe Anna's gone into it with her eyes wide open."

He took a long swig of his beer. "That's good to know." He smiled at her then, and Elizabeth was pleased he'd returned to his easygoing manner. "So you like your drink," he said, seemingly examining her for signs of ill effect. "Nothing yet," he gently teased, "but I'll give you a moment."

"I've only had a few drinks," she laughed. She took another, then after a moment asked him, "Can I admit something to you? And you promise you won't think any less of me?"

"Elizabeth, after all I've admitted to you today and you still haven't run screaming, you can tell me just about anything and I owe it to you to keep an absolute straight face."

She smiled. "I….Sometimes I envy Jack. It's the whole pirate thing again, I guess. Living selfishly. Just doing what you want, _taking_ what you want, when you want it."

Will gazed at her in confusion. "But I thought that was the whole point of your holiday. Have we missed some of the things you wanted to do?"

"No. I mean, yes, I still have a list full, but…." She gestured around them. "Were doing some of them right now, aren't we? I just….I suppose I've just discovered that doing exactly what you want isn't as easy as I thought, even when there's no one specifically stopping you. It's like you said in the smithy. There are always consequences for your actions."

"Consequences for whom?"

"For….for _everyone_."

Will smiled. "But that's not selfish, pirate thinking. You see, you're just good down to the very core, even when you're trying not to be."

"No I'm not," she argued. "Actually the consequences I'm concerned with right now would be all my own."

"How so?"

How could she tell him that what she wanted to take was him – right now – but she was simply too afraid of getting hurt in the process? "If I make a misstep, if I don't choose the right path and end up falling down, this time around I have no one to blame but myself."

"True, but that's the thing about freedom. Those of us who are free very seldom know ahead of time if the move we're making is the right one until we've already taken the first few steps."

Elizabeth recognized the truth in what Will said, but it didn't make it any easier. She took a healthy sip of her drink and sighed. "It's hard work, this making the right choice."

He looked at her for a long, measuring moment. "Then let's be wrong."

At his words, at his sultry tone, her napkin slid through her hand and fluttered to the table below. "What?"

His gaze held her captive, making her heart race and her body tingle – tingles that increased when he reached up and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing the underside of her chin. "Tonight, let's be wrong. Do whatever comes naturally and worry about whether it was the right choice tomorrow."

"Ahh, the Gone with the Wind philosophy."

Will laughed. "Funny, I can't picture you watching that film." There was a sexy gleam in his eyes as he whispered, "There are no pirates in it."

"My father made me watch it," she explained absently, intrigued by that little gleam, wanting so badly to explore it further.

"Well, let's just call it Jack's philosophy."

Elizabeth nodded and lifted her glass to his bottle. "Here's to the pirate philosophy."

She took a long drink and then focused on the dessert. Something to channel her lust into; she'd always heard chocolate was the next best thing to sex. Picking up the fork, she went in with a gusto.

Will watched her dig into the food and smiled. "She must really like you," he told her. "Caribbean Chocolate Bananas is Tia Dalma's specialty. Few on the island make it, and of those that do no one's is as good as hers."

The dessert in question was made up of chopped bananas drizzled with a melted combination of butter, semisweet chocolate, and coconut cream, topped with diced nuts and served over crepes.

"Here," he said, taking the fork from her hand. "Let me."

He broke off a bit of the dessert, making sure to scoop up a generous portion of the sweet sauce. Elizabeth's mouthed watered and her lips parted of their own accord as Will slipped a bite of the decadent treat into her mouth.

Her eyes closed and she moaned in ecstasy as the rich chocolate melted on her tongue.

He saw the look of pure pleasure on her face, and all at once yearned to be the one putting it there in an entirely different context.

Then she opened her eyes and took the fork from him, continuing to attack the dessert without offering him any, but he didn't mind. He had a feeling he enjoyed the view far more than he ever could the treat. She took another bite and a splash of the chocolate sauce drizzled down, landing against her mouth. He watched her slowly lick her full lower lip, her tongue whipping it away in a heat-inducing gesture that Will felt all the way to his toes. He wondered if she realized how much this was turning him on.

But Elizabeth remained oblivious. It wasn't until she finished the dessert that she even remembered he hadn't taken a single bite. "I'm sorry," she said sheepishly, worrying that alluring lip of hers, unknowingly bringing his attention back to the temptation of her mouth. "I didn't mean to be so greedy."

Will was inexorably drawn to her and he was through fighting it, even if he could. He moved in closer, the hand across the back of her chair reaching up to play with her hair. "That's alright," he whispered, giving her a secret smile. "You're living by Jack's philosophy tonight: take what you can; give nothing back."

She laughed softly. The sound was infectious and he soon joined her. "You were wonderful this afternoon," he disclosed.

The heat of his gaze made her pulse race and she was keenly aware of every place his body brushed against hers. "Yes, well, I've had years of training. And you weren't so bad yourself."

He shook his head slightly as if overwhelmed in admiration. "You're a wonder with a sword, Elizabeth. There's no question." His voice was thick as he added, "But you were pretty amazing afterwards too."

She smiled, the warmth of it lighting her eyes. "So were you. You looked…." She sighed, taking a sip of her drink before boldly finishing, "You looked damn good in that pirate costume, if you'll pardon my language – or even if you won't."

He chuckled deep and low as he watched her take another long drink. He was loving this 'wrong' Elizabeth more and more. "I'll remember you like it." He pulled her in closer to him, his hand curling around her shoulder. "But I did mean what I said….I've never told those things to anyone. Thank you for listening, Elizabeth."

He pressed a soft, incredibly hot kiss against her temple and she felt something melt inside.

"Now, back to the pirate costume," he murmured, his voice pure enticement as he traced the line of the medallion's chain she still wore round her neck.

His deep chocolate eyes were intoxicating. She'd long heard the term 'bedroom eyes' and, looking into Will's, she knew she'd found the acme of the phrase. He was effortlessly sexy, and now all that charm, that seductive male appeal, was aimed directly at her. She had no hopes of withstanding.

"Later tonight, we could go back to the smithy and I could try it on again for you," he offered, moving his hand to rest on the softness of her bare knee.

Elizabeth gave him a wicked smile, her eyes infused with interest and desire. "To play at swords?" she asked.

His index finger softly caressed the underside of her knee, setting off a pleasurable flutter that started in her abdomen and spread lower and lower. Tia was right. She did want to test the strength of this fire. If the few moves Will had made tonight could do all this to her, how good would it make her feel if he really turned up the heat? Perhaps spontaneous combustion was possible after all.

A corner of his inviting mouth tilted upward into a rascal smile, the one she'd seen while they were fencing. "To play at….something."

Before she could reply, they both were distracted from their heated flirtation by the loud scrap of tables across the wooden floor.

Looking around, Will realized they had lingered far longer than he thought. For this entire month, Calypso shut down early on Thursdays to prepare for Carnival. Currently, they were the only patrons left and, glancing at his watch, he discovered why; the bar had long since been closed. It was a shame too. He would hate to destroy this perfect mood they'd fallen into, with Elizabeth snuggled so close, his hands touching her as he'd longed to all night.

"It's alright," Tia Dalma called when she saw them looking about. "The night is far from over, and you're always welcome."

Will glanced to Elizabeth. "Would you rather go home now, or do you want to stay as we are awhile longer?" He held his breath, finally admitting, "I'd like to stay."

She studied him and then smiled. "Are you kidding? I'm enjoying myself much too much to leave…..And I may have crossed 'go to a bar' off my list, but I haven't yet finished my drink," she said, indicating the glass still a quarter of the way full of its contents. "Did you really think I was about to go home without drinking every last drop?

"Hope, not think," he teased.

"Well you thought wrong," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took another sip. Her voice was sensual and purposefully alluring when she added, "If you want me to go home with you, you'll have to wait till I finish my drink first."

For a crazy instant he wondered if she meant 'go home with you' the way it sounded, but quickly dismissed the thought, though his fingers did flex unconsciously against her knee.

Glancing away, Elizabeth watched Tia and several of the ladies who worked for her – including Giselle but, she noted with satisfaction, not that horrid Jeannette – pushing tables and chairs against the far walls to create a large, open space in the center of the bar.

"What are they doing?" she asked Will.

"Getting ready to have practice. In another two weeks it will be Carnival. They're preparing for their entry."

Elizabeth's pretty brow furrowed in confusion. "What's Carnival?"

Will smoothed the little wrinkle away. "A cultural event. It's very important here on the island, really in this entire region," he corrected. "It's actually quite a fun time to be here. Tourism always picks up too. There are all kinds of festivities: parades with elaborate costumes and floats; live bands and fantastic music; all manner of competitions – music, dance, cooking, even beauty contests. And then there's my favorite, j'ouvert. It's another parade, but in the middle of the night. It's more like a huge street party, really, that lasts until sunrise."

Elizabeth smiled, excitement at the idea clear upon her face. "That's sounds amazing," she said, full of enthusiasm.

"You'll have to stay to see it then."

"Yes," she readily agreed. "Does the Black Pearl do anything for it?" Her eyes lit with a sudden fervor. "Perhaps have a pirate ship float?"

Will laughed. "We've thought about it, but haven't done it yet."

"But you must." Her mouth formed into a slight frown, that delectable little pout he'd come to love. "I suppose it _is_ too late for this year, but definitely next."

He wondered for a moment if he should take hope in her planning the resort's future, but she quickly went on, "And Calypso is in one of the competitions then?"

"Yes, they're a part of the Caribbean drum and dance competition."

"I'm not familiar with that – Caribbean drum and dance, I mean."

"You're about to be," he answered, nodding toward the women, who'd taken their formation with Tia in the lead.

A stereo was flipped on, the music began, and Elizabeth was held spellbound. The first thing she noticed was the throbbing beat of the drums. And the dance….the dance was like nothing she'd ever seen before. The women held their bodies long and loose, walking with large steps and thrusting their hips and pelvises forward with each measure. Then they revolved in place, their middles swaying in a seductive gyrating circle akin to a belly dancer. From there, they went into rapid wide swings of their hips and bottoms, now bringing their upper bodies into the dance with flourishing arm movements. Then, with their bottoms stuck out, they made tiny little quick backward hops before going into a slow spin and repeating some of the earlier steps, this time incorporating even more pronounced hip wiggling and a move that could only be described as sticking out their breasts and wildly shaking their shoulders and upper torsos. And all in perfect time to the drums.

The dance was amazing, artful, and incredibly sexy all at the same time. And the women....Elizabeth was fascinated with the way they carried themselves, so full of femininity and yet so aware of their power and sexuality.

She continued to watch, enthralled, and the sprit of it soon captured her. The music was absolutely contagious. She felt as if the rhythm had crept inside her, spurring her body forward to take part.

She turned to Will, who rather than observing the dancers was watching her watch them – though he seemed to be equally enthralled.

There was pure devilment in her eyes as she told him, "I want to join in."

"What?" Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it.

"The dance. I want to learn it too."

"I – I don't know if they – "

"Elizabeth," Tia beckoned, "come join us."

Elizabeth looked to Will with a see-there smile. There was no way Tia could have heard her across the room over this music, but he simply shrugged.

Elizabeth paused to finish her drink, the slurp of the straw indicating she'd drained the glass dry, and then set out to join the dancers while Will sat back in his chair and watched.

Tia Dalma gave her a few whispered instructions, but it seemed Elizabeth didn't need much help. For a moment or two, she stood there gently moving, running her fingers through her hair and letting the music, or the booze, or both of the above, loosen her until she easily fell in with the other dancers, the native rhythm consuming her.

There was something about Elizabeth that was so fresh and unaffected by who she was or what she was supposed to be. And everything she did, including this dance that was so new to her, she did with a flair that couldn't be replicated or topped by any other. Watching her take to the makeshift dance floor like an old pro he was utterly hypnotized. She was so damned adorable, so impossibly easy to love. Her softness, her sensuality, everything about her was mesmerizing.

And then she began to follow the steps of the overtly provocative dance, and all at once he lost his breath. Watching her move, replicating the steps of the other women who earlier couldn't even hold his interest, turned him on to the point that he stiffened uncomfortably in his chair. She wiggled and gyrated, canting her pelvis in a way that was nothing short of luscious, and all the while that glorious tumble of honey hair flitted and danced about her face and shoulders.

Arms spread wide, she lifted her head toward the ceiling and thrust out her breasts as if presenting forth her assets – an offer he was more than willing to take her up on. Then she began to shake her shoulders, bending at the waist and pivoting up and down, until the medallion hung loose from her top – and all of its other contents pitched forward and strained against the fabric until the V pulled open wider, giving him a view that stopped all conscious thought. He bit back a groan, and again shifted in his chair.

Suddenly Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled. Their eyes met across the room and held for a long moment full of promise. He'd spent the last few days trying to seduce her, win her over, but seemingly to little effect – and now it left the question of who was seducing who. Then the dance led her into a turn and the eye contact was broken.

Still, he continued to watch her, his gaze zeroing in on the sway of her hips, the tilt of her bottom, and the gentle swing of her pelvis. She was destroying him without even knowing it. A vision flitted into his mind of her repeating the same movements, only with him joining her, the two of them alone – preferably in the bedroom. He mentally shook himself. He could fantasize about that later. Right now, he wanted no distractions from the real thing.

His eyes observed her, imperviously glued to the jiggle and shake of her swiveling figure. By the time the dance was finished, Will was left speechless, breathless, his body aching for her.

He certainly wanted to, but _should_ he make a move tonight? he wondered, as Elizabeth crossed the room to join him. She seemed to be attracted to him, but was that enough? He didn't want her to be just another woman; she never could be. But what would she say if she knew he wanted more, so much more?

When she made it back to their table, he noticed that her face was flushed, perhaps from the effort of the dance. But when she nearly missed her chair, offering the excuse of feeling 'a little light-headed from the twirling', he began to suspect the effects of her drink were hitting her.

"I think it's time we get you home," he told her.

"Alright, I'll go home with you. I'll go anywhere with you," she giggled.

"Okay then."

He took her arm and led her toward the exit, but before they could get out the door Tia Dalma stopped them with a hand on Elizabeth's arm. Just like that, she had her full attention. Tia's eyes steady on hers, she said enigmatically, "You've found your freedom. Now give in to your destiny."

Outside, in the shadow of Calypso's flickering tiki torches, Will and Elizabeth hopped aboard the Lambretta. This ride was far different from the last. He took the road slow and easy, afraid that with her balance slightly off due to the rum she might have a more difficult time holding on. And, this time, his concerns for her provided a much needed diversion from her warm, soft body pressed flush against his.

Reaching the Black Pearl safely, Will pulled the bike to a stop, but Elizabeth still clung to him, her arms about his waist and her cheek snuggled against his ribs. When she didn't move or let go of him, he turned behind him to look at her.

Glancing up at him, her mouth fell into a pouty frown. "Why didn't you go fast and wild like before?"

He waited until they'd both successfully dismounted from the bike to answer. "Because I didn't want you falling off."

She appeared mildly insulted at that. "I didn't fall off the last time," she defended, as she followed him inside.

"You also weren't tipsy the last time," he said matter-of-factly.

Her mouth dropped open and her affronted gasp echoed through the deserted lobby. "I am _not_ drunk," she insisted.

Will found her injured assertion adorable – especially when she swallowed a hiccup. "I didn't say you were drunk," he pointed out. "I said you were tipsy."

She squinted her eyes at him. "What's the difference?"

"Tipsy is like just starting to come down with a cold. Drunk is being down in bed with the flu."

She grinned at that, stepping out of the other side of the lobby and back into the evening air. Once the dark enveloped them, Will quickly discovered the walk across the Black Pearl to their cabanas would prove much more difficult than the ride here had. The night was beautiful, with a bright full moon and a blanket of stars overhead, but even the beauty of the night couldn't distract him from hers.

He was dazzled by Elizabeth. There was just no other word for it. And here, beneath the moonlight, she took his breath away. She was radiant, incandescent, completely lovely, and he was wholly taken by her, helplessly smitten. By the time they made it past the pool and the Dauntless' outdoor seating area, he'd folded her hand into his and tugged her to his side.

He felt so good against her that Elizabeth touched her head to his shoulder for a moment, enjoying the sensation. She yearned to enjoy a few more sensations before the night was through, but perhaps he'd be put-off by his earlier concerns about her drinking? She lifted her head and gave him a slow smile which he easily returned. "I'm not drunk, you know," she assured him.

"I know."

"I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing." And she wasn't drunk, not really…..Perhaps a little buzzed. Then again, she couldn't tell if the slow burn through her body was caused by the alcohol or simply by being so near to Will.

Out of the blue, for no particular reason at all, she wondered what her father would say if he could have seen her tonight, drinking and dancing and clinging to a man who was not her prim and proper, boring fiancé. Which brought an image of him into her mind. She could only just imagine the look on _his_ face if he saw her shaking and gyrating in such a provocative manner. He would probably scold her…..either that or try to coerce her into the parlor again – which of course was impossible as Calypso had no back parlor. The very idea was just plain silly. She lightly chortled to herself at the thought.

As they walked through the shadows of the Empress, the dulcet sound of Elizabeth's soft laughter trickled on the wind, quickening Will's pulse and making him yearn to take her in his arms and touch his lips to hers.

She gave him a coy glance. Wrapping her hands about his arm, she asked, "Did _you_ like my dancing?"

He paused in their walking and caught her eye, making her heart gently flutter. "Elizabeth, I _loved_ your dancing."

Her mouth tilted into a slow smile and she pulled him onward.

After stopping a moment while Elizabeth theatrically saluted the pier where they met, the two soon reached the private portion of the property. Will couldn't remember a single moment in his life when he was happier than right now, walking along the sandy pathway with Elizabeth, the seashore spread out before them in the near distance. The crystalline blue waters, the white sand beach, the lush green all around, and the breathtaking woman at his side were quite a thing to behold.

But the scenery was lost on Elizabeth. A soft breeze coming off the waters whispered across her skin and she wondered what it would be like if it weren't the wind but Will's hands softly caressing her, his hands…..his lips. The fantasy was so tantalizing she shivered.

Seeing her gently shudder, Will let go of her hand to remove his jacket, offering her the delectable sight of his chiseled torso with nothing but a thin, snug tee-shirt to cover it. He placed the jacket tenderly across her shoulders and his delicious scent immediately surrounded her. She pulled the fabric tighter about her, not from any coldness but purely from the desire to be enveloped by him, and his jacket seemed to be the next best thing.

Will, however, thought her to still be chilled and put his arm around her, his hand warmly resting at the small of her back.

Elizabeth inhaled deeply at the collar of his jacket, and a long dissolute shy – very nearly a moan – escaped her.

"This was fun, Will," she told him. "I really enjoyed myself tonight. In fact, I'm going to confess something to you." She leaned in closer, her lips near enough to his that Will burned with the need to close those final inches. "I'm glad I ran away. I'm glad none of them are here, not Gillette, or Estrella, or even my father – especially my father. I'm having a much better time with you than I could ever have under his watch….or, I'm sorry to say, Jim's."

She suddenly dissolved into laughter. Will had no idea what she found so amusing, but he couldn't help smiling along with her.

"Will you look at that?" she said when sufficiently recovered. "I think you're rubbing off on me. I've never called him 'Jim' before."

She broke into giggles a second time, either at the very notion or the pure novelty of saying the word again; Will wasn't sure.

Elizabeth looked up at him and laughed once more. He joined in and the quiet, masculine sound wrapped around her, heating her body and touching off an awareness inside her that she'd never known until she met him. "Maybe I am a little tipsy."

"Just a little."

Gazing at her in the moonlight, Will felt the last traces of the guards that had once surrounded his heart crumble and fall away. She was such a heavenly contrast, soft and sweet and beautiful on the outside, but feisty, impish, and he was beginning to believe quite naughty inside. In that moment, he knew he lived and breathed for her.

"Anyway….what was I saying?" she asked. Will started to respond, but she charged on. "Oh yes, James and my father…..They never let me have any fun. When I'm with them, I could never do something like this."

She danced in a little circle, hips wildly shaking as she repeated a mini-version of the dance she'd earlier performed. She twirled and his jacket fell from her shoulders. Moonlight touched her bare skin, and his eyes fixed to her as she continued to sway, engrossed by the way she moved, his gaze sliding up and down her body with tangible pleasure.

All at once, she stopped dancing, coming back to stand before him. "Highly improper," she mockingly imitated. Then, in a low seductive tone, she asked him, "Do you think it's improper?"

Will could still scarcely think straight after her impromptu dance. And now that she was so close, speaking to him in such a manner, all blood seemed to have left his brain, making a coherent answer impossible. "I….uh….." The breeze kicked up again, blowing a long tendril of golden hair into her face. He reached up and gently tucked it behind her ear. "No, I don't," he said softly. "And don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

Elizabeth smiled adoringly up at him. "I won't." Her smile faltered as she added, "But they'll never understand. It's different there……" Her words somberly trailed off. She grew pensive and silent and he briefly thought that was all the more she would say. Yet, just an instant later, she perked back up, her cheerful grin restored. "But, here with you, I'm so happy – and free!" To illustrate the point, she flung her arms out wide, lifting her face to the stars and executing a perfect little pirouette.

She took a step toward him. Maybe it was the spinning, or the piña colada, or more likely a combination of both, but when Elizabeth's toe hit a small stone in the sandy path she lost her balance, tripping and pitching forward – directly into Will.

He reached out and caught her as she fell heavily into him, absorbing the weight of her body. Her hands clutched his upper arms to keep from falling, but she quickly recovered, speedily regaining her footing. Will, however, uncertain if her dizziness had yet passed, was taking no chances and he linked his hands behind the small of her back to ensure she stay upright.

But then they were so close to each other. Their gazes met and held, and in that long drawn out moment, time stood still.

His eyes seemed to smolder and she wouldn't be a bit surprised if hers did too. Just like that time on the beach, she thought he might kiss her – wished it desperately. Yet he hadn't then, and he made no move to now……But he'd told her to be wrong, to worry about the consequences tomorrow, she remembered as her eyes fell to his lips. This was the new Elizabeth Swann, the pirate. She needn't passively wait for the man. No, she took what she wanted.

As if under a spell, drawn in and unwilling to fight it a second longer, she leaned into him. Her eyes fell closed, and she raised her mouth up to his. Her lips touched his and Elizabeth felt a surge of heat and excitement zing through her. Will must have felt it too, she happily noted, for it took him only a half-second to respond, his hand moving up to gently cup her face.

The instant he felt the gentle pressure of her mouth against his, he was rocked by a feeling like nothing he had ever known. Elizabeth was warm and feminine in his arms, and her satin-soft lips beneath his were like a whisper and a dream. She kissed him softly, tentatively. It was such a sweet sensuous kiss the emotion of it nearly brought him to his knees.

And when she pressed her body further into his, he was completely swept away. He moved his other hand to gently cradle the back of her neck, holding her there in place to receive his kiss. She went soft and pliant against him as he continued the cajoling kiss, and his fingers slipped up under her hair, his thumb lightly stroking her ear, as he tilted his head to the side with every intention of deepening the kiss.

The tip of his tongue coaxed the seam of her lips and she slowly opened her mouth to him. Elizabeth experimentally brushed her tongue across his bottom lip in return, and Will lost it, touching his tongue to hers and drawing it fully into his mouth.

He tasted so good to her, and the slide of his tongue over hers was exhilarating, stimulating in a way she never knew a kiss could be. She wanted more of it, more of him, more of this feeling that vibrated through her, starting where their lips met and spreading to every last corner of her body.

She slid caressing hands up his back, over his shoulder blades, to the nape of his neck. Her touch ignited him and, when the fingers of both hands delved into his hair, curling against his scalp and pressing his mouth further to hers, he nearly forgot his own name.

His hand skittered down her spine to find her waist, rubbing her there with light, almost teasing fingers that must have hit their mark, for her hands tightened in his hair.

Their mouths opening together, tongues softly exploring, intuitively in sync, they stood there on the moonlit path snogging like a couple of lovesick teenagers for Elizabeth didn't know how long. She was completely absorbed by Will, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by his scent. He was her whole consciousness. Everything else faded away. Nothing existed for her but the touch of him, the taste of him, the melting sensation his kisses aroused low in her belly. And soon it was no longer enough to simply have his lips against hers. She wanted them everywhere. Her body ached and tingled with the need to feel his kisses, his touch, all over her.

The sudden cry of a night bird overhead was the only thing that brought her mind to reason. Softly ending the kiss, she pressed her forehead to his, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. Then, shifting back, she met his gaze. He had a dazed, passionate look in his darkened eyes that brought a hint of a smile to her still-moistened lips.

"I like the way you taste, Will," she told him, the sultry timbre of her voice going straight to his groin. "Do you like how I taste?"

He looked at her and wanted nothing more than to bring her mouth back to his and have another sip. "Of pineapple, and rum, and desire." And something else sweet he couldn't quite define….something distinctly Elizabeth. "Yes," he answered in a husky, intimate whisper, "I like your flavor very much."

She gave him a full-on smile at that, her hand gliding down his chest to the tip of his belt buckle as she stepped around him, walking on.

"I'm afraid I like it far _too_ much," he added beneath his breath. Inwardly he was reeling as he stooped to pick up his nearly forgotten jacket and swiftly shrugged it back on. That kiss had proved what he'd already begun to suspect: how far deep he was in and how very much he it was going to hurt in the end.

Elizabeth stood a few feet ahead of Will on the path, her back to him. She hadn't let on, but she had been shocked by the force of their kiss too, by the still nearly overwhelming desire to return to his embrace and continue it. She touched her fingertips to her lips wonderingly. She'd never known such yearning as when she was pressed against him, his mouth on hers. It made her feel powerless, but in a good way, just…..completely engulfed in the sensations.

In the time it took Elizabeth to ponder all that he'd made her feel, Will appeared unseen at her side. He was going to get hurt, he knew, but oh well. Tonight he had her with him, and that was all that mattered.

"Elizabeth," he breathed, his voice a tender caress, unraveling what was left of her.

He reached for her, sliding his arm around her waist and drawing her against his side. With a soft sigh, she settled into him, laying her head upon his shoulder – this time to stay – as they resumed the walk home.

There was something raw, guileless, and reverent surrounding them in the wake of their kiss. Neither said a word as they walked on, but it didn't matter; they were too immersed in the mood, the sensation, the soft rightness of simply holding one another.

And that's when it hit her: _this_ is what it's supposed to feel like. Nothing forced, nothing strained, nothing required of you. Just a gentle, sweet, warmness when he held you…..and a hot awakening, melting fire burning out of control, when he kissed you. The sudden realization was as thrilling as it was terrifying. There was a world of passion, pleasure, love, and excitement she was just beginning to scratch the surface of…..and the man – the _only_ man – that could introduce it to her was the one man, for a million reasons, she could never have. But she pushed such thoughts from her mind, for now anyway. Tonight was meant for enjoying.

The rest of the walk down the sandy path, through the courtyard, and past the pool was accomplished in a contented silence. They finally stopped on her porch, both reluctant to break the spell, to let go, to say goodnight.

After taking one last moment to breathe her in, Will slowly released Elizabeth and they took up positions facing one another, each leaning on opposite sides of her door jamb.

"I….ah….." Her words faded away as she found nothing sufficient to say at such a moment.

Will reached up and ran the back of his hand tenderly down her cheek. "Me too."

Elizabeth wanted to reply, but she was yet at a loss. Her lips still tingled from his. She was tired and faintly dizzy from the rum, and from Will, and….all of it. But, more than anything, she could still taste him on her tongue, a taste she wanted to savor, to know for the rest of her life.

At length, he seemed to forcibly remove his hand from her. "Good night, Elizabeth," he whispered.

She faltered, on the edge of saying something more. "Good night, Will," she finally replied, slipping inside her cabana and closing the door.

* * *

AN: So finally an update! I've been working on this one for quite some time, but it is the longest one yet. I've got to admit, at this point I've all but given up on weekly updates. With my schedule right now that's just not going to happen. But know that even if it's been a week or two, I'm still working on the story and will be posting a new update soon (honestly, it's probably going to be closer to every two weeks now, but I'll try my hardest to make it sooner). Anyway, I always love hearing what you think – and, yea, they've finally kissed!

Also, if you're wondering about the dance Tia Dalma, Elizabeth, and the other women of Calypso perform, I highly encourage you to go to Youtube and just search the phrase "Caribbean drum and dance". You'll find some excellent examples there of this style of dance. It's very striking.


	11. The Best Laid Plans…

~

* * *

Maybe it's true, that I can't live without you  
And maybe two is better than one.

- M. Johnson

* * *

_ * Mr. Turner, you are familiar with our pressing timetable, and therefore know it is of the utmost importance to have this build completed on time. It is absolutely vital that you are here to meet with us this weekend or we will have no choice but to take our business elsewhere. It is imperative that we hear from you in the next few hours if you are interested in continuing on this project. _

_ ****__– Island Tours *_

It took nothing less than those sobering words to shake Will from the stupor he had been in since the night before.

He didn't know exactly how much sleep he had gotten, but it had been little, sporadic, and filled with troubled dreams of Elizabeth – of the two of them locked in intimate embraces, of her leaving, him chasing, but ultimately losing her in the mist. When he'd finally crawled out of bed, giving up on any further rest, his worries were no less sharp. He wanted to pursue a relationship with Elizabeth, but she did not. At least that's what he'd thought until yesterday, more particularly, until last night.

They'd kissed, and it had been more than he'd ever imagined – and where Elizabeth was concerned he imagined pretty big. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want more, but what did it mean to her? Did Elizabeth have feelings for him? Could she possibly want to explore a relationship with him as badly as he did with her? Were they, in fact, already in one? Was she planning to leave her fiancé, to stay here indefinitely? Or was a kiss just a kiss, a physical response between two healthy adults?

And, perhaps most pressingly, how should he react when they saw one another again? Should he immediately bring up what happened between them? How should he even greet her now? With a kiss, as if they were lovers, partners, _something_ more than friends? He wanted to do both these things and more, but he just didn't know where Elizabeth stood.

As he had stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee, not for the first time that morning he'd cursed himself. He should have taken things slower. He'd planned to romance her, not accost her. He should have left it at a simple light kiss, something he could have recovered from if she didn't feel the same way. He shouldn't have shoved his tongue in her mouth, shouldn't have held her body against him. But he'd wanted her since the night they first met, and her lips beneath his had overpowered what was left of his restraint.

The endless, cyclical ruminations were leading to no useful conclusions, only further confusing him, so Will had chosen to open his laptop and check his email for a distraction. Most of it had been spam, with an interesting message sprinkled in here and there. He'd only just decided to surf the web when he'd heard a click alerting him to new mail. A half-second later his BlackBerry vibrated on the tabletop, signaling a new and urgent message. Reading the email first and then the text message, discovering they contained the same information, his mind had finally been shocked to something other than Elizabeth.

Of course he wanted to continue on the project. He was ashamed that they would even have to ask – and do so in dual correspondence, obviously in the hopes of not being further ignored. His behavior had been atrocious, the very antithesis of professionalism.

Island Tours was a start-up company run by three siblings, and Will knew it was only in reverence to their late father, whom he'd had a great rapport with and had done many builds for, that they had been patient with him up until now. He couldn't afford to lose this order, not only for the mark it would leave on his record, but because up until now he'd only had the chance to work on private builds. While this wasn't exactly out-and-out cruise ships, it was a plan for three identical vessels to lead large tourist parties on day tours of the various highlights of the surrounding regions. Each boat needed dual pedestrian decks, a galley, a dining facility, everything but staterooms. It was definitely a step in the right direction and he simply could not blow his chances. This was a project that could make or break his career.

He would have to go; there was no question about it. And so Will called up the offices of Island Tours, apologized profusely to the owners, and promised to be there at the start of business hours the following morning. All that was left to do was tell Elizabeth he was going. He hadn't wanted to leave her in the past, had been afraid to, and thus had ignored his responsibilities. But now he must go, and in light of what happened last night – whatever it meant – he was fairly certain he could do so without terror gripping his heart. She'd kissed him back, and hadn't screamed or slapped him afterwards. That had to count for something. At least now he wouldn't have to fear she'd run away in his absence. Probably. Maybe.

* * *

Elizabeth woke that morning with a dull ache in her head and a screaming urge to throttle herself with her pillow. What had she done? Certainly the rum had loosened her inhibitions but, as she'd assured Will at the time, she had been perfectly aware of what she was doing. And still she all but threw herself at him – literally.

_She_ had kissed him. She'd shamelessly pressed her body into his, ran her hands up his back, clutched at his shoulders, gripped his hair in her hands and forced his mouth to stay glued to hers. All she could think of at the time was the ache and the tingle of it, the melting at her very core. She'd wanted him desperately, and so she'd plastered herself to him with a complete lack of dignity. And, thanks to her embarrassingly blatant actions, Will was now aware of her feelings for him.

She had ruined everything. Now she would be a 'rules girl'. Will didn't want anything serious with her, she'd known that. He'd made his feelings on woman and relationships abundantly clear. Sure, he'd kissed her back, but she had all but attacked him. What man wouldn't? Really, what else was he to do? And now he knew how she felt about him, the things he did to her whenever he was near. He would think she wanted something more with him – which wasn't exactly a lie, but he didn't need to know that. Now, after her ill-conceived come-on, he'd fear she was getting the wrong idea about them having a future together – or that there even was a 'them'. She'd just sealed her fate. He would shut her out now, just like he had every other woman. Now they couldn't even be friends. Tears welled in her eyes at the thought. How could she have been so careless and stupid?

But she couldn't keep lying there and fretting about it; that was solving nothing. So she got up, showered, and dried her hair, all the while racking her brain for some way to put things back as they once were. Couldn't they just pretend like it all never happened, she miserably wished as she slipped on a pair of yellow shorts.....And that's when it hit her. Maybe they could.

She distinctly remembered Will having concerns the night before that she was too tipsy to know her own mind – or even keep her balance on the back of the Lambretta. Perhaps then it wouldn't be so farfetched for him to believe that she simply had no recollection of the event in question. That way he might think it was all just a fluke, a drunken lapse that could have happened with anyone, and meant nothing to her the morning after. And then everything would be okay.

A knock on her door startled Elizabeth from her deliberations. She quickly slipped on a tee-shirt and went to open it, working to compose herself, for she knew with a certainty it was Will on the other side.

The moment she swung the door open and their eyes met for that first time, it was like they were standing beneath the palm fronds again, making out like the other was the only thing that mattered in the world.

This was going to be more difficult to get past than she'd originally imagined, Elizabeth thought, but she was determined to do it. At the same time, Will congratulated himself on having the fortitude not to take her into his arms and repeat all the things he'd cursed himself for less than an hour ago.

"Good morning," he said, stepping over the threshold and into her home. He decided he'd leave it up to her to set the tone of the conversation and follow her cues as to how he should act.

After a slightly awkward moment of spending far longer than was necessary securing the door, Elizabeth turned and offered a simple, "Good morning," in reply. "So…."

There was another long pause, in which Will determined maybe he could do a little careful nudging. "Did you…..did you sleep alright?" he asked leadingly.

She knew what he was getting at. After throwing herself at him hard, had she stayed up half the night planning their wedded bliss? "Yes," she answered lightly. "I slept fine. Like a baby." Her tone plainly asked, _why shouldn't she?_

His brow furrowed at that, as if he wasn't expecting such a reply – or simply didn't believe her. So she hurried on. "Anyway, what should we do today?"

Her nonchalant behavior took Will by surprise, and he faltered a moment. "Well, I – actually, I came over to discuss my work."

"Oh?" she went on, as if fascinated by his business interests – and nothing else. "Do you have a new perspective client? How exciting for you."

"No, I – I mean, yes – " He broke off, running an agitated hand through his hair and thoroughly mussing the strands that had once been neatly swept back into a knot. It was starting to really eat at him that she clearly intended to go on without mentioning their kiss at all. Had it meant so little to her? "Yes, I do have a client but....I thought that maybe you'd want to talk about what happened last night."

Relying on the false face and smile that years worth of living in the public eye had taught her, she innocently said, "You mean the piña colada? Yes, it was strong. I understand now why you wanted me to eat first……though perhaps I should've eaten a little more," she hinted. Fearing saying anything more obvious than that would seem suspiciously heavy-handed, she quickly finished, "But everything turned out all right."

Will blinked at her. "I wasn't talking about the drink."

Elizabeth had hoped, unreasonably so, that her allusion to potential drunkenness the night before would be enough to carry the 'I-don't-remember-a-thing' explanation she was going for, but apparently not. "Then you must mean the dancing. It's not something I'm particularly used to, but it was fun, and there was no one around to see me. Calypso was empty at that time, and certainly no one could've seen us on the beach."

"No one saw us……" His voice trailed away, modulating higher, clearly indicating he wanted her to fill in what no one could have witnessed.

_With my tongue down your throat _was the obvious completion of that sentence, but instead she answered, "Dancing. No one saw us – well, _me_ – dancing." She paused uncomfortably, finally going for it. "You must have meant the dancing, right?" Averting her eyes to the far wall, she lied, "Nothing else out of the ordinary happened that I remember."

So there it was. The truth hit Will like a punch to the gut; Elizabeth regretted what happened between them. Her way of dealing with it was to blame it on the booze and pretend she didn't even recall it. Of course, he could easily see through that. She may have been a bit buzzed the night before, but not enough to have blacked out through the entire intense, exhaustive, heart-stopping kiss. Her naivety showed in the lie. If she expected it to be believable at all she shouldn't have admitted to the memory of her dancing for him on the walk home, which happened all of a minute before their kiss. But it didn't matter that she was clumsy in the cover-up. The only point of real significance was that she wanted to cover it up at all.

And here he'd been foolish enough to almost believe she might have feelings for him. He'd only been kidding himself. Now reality stared him plain in the face, forcing him to acknowledge what he didn't want to be true. As much as he cared and longed for Elizabeth, there wasn't room for any more delusions where she was concerned. She would never love him, never really want him. She would leave eventually and there was nothing he could do about it. Oh, she may have shown some attraction to him, but that was just slumming. Weren't women always attracted to the 'bad boy', forbidden fruit? There were entire books written on the subject. But she wouldn't want to make a future with him and he couldn't blame her – especially after all he'd revealed the afternoon before. His wasn't exactly a worthy pedigree to begin with, and he'd gone and made it worse with all his rules and his closed-off approach to life and love and women.

A sigh from somewhere deep inside his soul bubbled up in Will's throat. He'd allow her this lie unquestioned, save her the chagrin he was currently steeped in and let at least one of them walk away with their dignity intact.

Elizabeth held her breath, waiting for his response. Would he buy it? Would he believe that throwing herself at him had all been a drunken mistake she didn't even remember now? Would things be all right between them again….or was this the part where he walked away, shutting her out of his life for good?

Will looked into Elizabeth's eyes, seeing regret and…..fear? Was he that bad of a choice for her then? "Let's just both forget about last night," he said somberly.

He was going to let bygones be bygones. She was flooded with a sense of relief so strong she felt actual tears of reprieve form in her eyes.

"I really did come to talk about my work," he continued evenly.

"Yes, your new client," she answered, struggling to get a hold of herself, eager to push this conversation in a new direction and make _him_ forget the indiscretion she claimed not to remember.

"They want me to meet with them this weekend for a detailed consultation, drawing up and finalizing the plans so we can start on the build."

"Well that's good," she told him brightly. Seeing the expression on his face, she added, "Isn't it?"

"Their business headquarters is on another island. That means I'll be away the entire time. My flight leaves first thing in the morning. I've a return late Monday afternoon."

"Oh." She wasn't expecting that – or the deep pang the thought of him leaving struck in her heart. It seemed everything today was conspiring to take Will away from her. "That – that sounds promising but…..two whole days, three really," she corrected. "I mean, who holds meetings on a Sunday? And is it really necessary to rush you so?"

"It isn't exactly a rush." He took a breath before confessing, "Actually, it's not a new client either. I landed the account before you came. It was tentatively understood at the time that I'd be starting on the project in the upcoming weeks. Frankly, they've been in touch several times and I kept putting them off. If I don't go now I'll lose the contract, and it's a good one, Elizabeth. A tour company that wants me to design and build a mini-fleet for day trips of the surrounding islands. If all goes well, eventually they might expand to full-scale cruises."

He said no more, but he didn't have to. She knew what that meant to him. It was just the sort of thing he'd been waiting for. Though she wished he didn't have to leave the island to do it, she certainly hadn't meant to suggest he shouldn't go. It was far too important an opportunity to even think about turning down…..In fact, she couldn't understand why he had put it off at all.

"Well of course you'll go, Will. You should have before rather than risk upsetting them and potentially losing the job…..But you didn't go." In sudden realization, she said, "It was because of me, wasn't it?"

"I…uh…."

He looked flustered again and she knew she'd hit home. Her eyes turned stormy, and it was on the tip of her tongue to reproachingly ask if he thought she was too incompetent to take care of herself without him when reality struck her and her anger immediately cooled. She _had_ proven in need of Will's help and protection. She'd arrived on his pier half-drowned, completely out of her mind, with nothing but the clothes on her back, and only enough money to survive perhaps a day. He had every reason to think her incapable of self-preservation. Even she shuddered to think of what might have happened if someone else had found her that night.

"Will, you _have_ to go to the meeting. I'll be fine here on my own, really," she assured him. "I'm familiar with the Black Pearl now. I know how everything in the cabana works," she gestured around them. "I can cook and clean. I'm not so very helpless, not when you catch me at a good time," she joked.

"I didn't think you were. That's not why I – " He stopped himself before revealing too much.

"Why then?" she asked, unwilling to let it go. There seemed to be something important in what he wasn't saying.

"I didn't want – I…." Will looked away from her. "I thought, while I was away, you might leave."

Elizabeth stared at him incredulously. "Where would I go? I don't want to be anywhere but here." That brought his eyes back to hers and he studied them. Her cheeks colored pink as she realized the implication in her declaration, and so she added, "You know, because I've made so many friends here, Anna, and Gibbs, and Marty, and I have this whole pseudo-rivalry, game of verbal one-upmanship going with Jack…..And then there's you."

Her face flushed anew. This was coming out all wrong. They'd once been comfortable together and she'd ruined it all by kissing him. Now the knowledge of how his tongue felt sliding over hers clouded everything – a memory he must assuredly would not want her fantasizing over. "Look, I'll be fine here for a few days. I've got Anna, and we can have a girls' weekend. I've never had one before, but they sound like a good time. And you see! It can be a part of my list. So really it's doing us both a favor."

Will laughed at that. She was going out of her way to make him feel okay about his decision, and he felt himself fall for her even harder than before.

"Alright," he smiled. "Then I guess I'll go pack, and you can make those weekend plans with Anna."

She appeared slightly dejected at what seemed like his quick dismissal and apparent abandonment of her for the rest of the day.

Seeing her gloomy expression, his heart lightened just a little bit more. "But don't make any plans for tonight. I have a few of my own for us that I bet will add some more 'Firsts' to that list."

* * *

Will had been true to his word. For their last night together before he left, he'd planned an extravagant picnic for them on his favorite beach, the private little strip of sun and sand directly behind his cabana that early in her stay he'd promised to show her. Now that Elizabeth had seen the beach, she understood why he loved it so much. The way the island curved around combined with the pattern of natural growth of palms and other lush native greenery made this one spot of beach a secluded little alcove cut off from the rest of the world.

And they'd enjoyed every minute here. Will had built a large bonfire, and they'd roasted clams over the open flames. Then, after they'd feasted to their hearts content, Elizabeth had taught Will her favorite pirate song and attempted to instruct him in the dance she'd learned at Calypso. When he'd failed to be receptive to that idea, she settled for merely running circles round the fire with him while chanting the lyrics of the silly ode to piracy until they'd both fallen exhausted upon the sand.

And now that dusk had given way to full-fledged darkness and the flickering light of the fire was their only illumination, his cozy little beach began to take on a whole new sense of intimacy.

Giving her a soft smile and promising a quick return, Will dashed back up the beach and into his cabana, returning with a tray burdened down by a small bucket, a scoop, and two waffle cones. "Your dessert, madam." He bent in salute and very nearly emptied the tray's entire contents onto the sand. Elizabeth laughed, then hurried to help him dole out the treat.

With the setback of last night – or rather this morning, as the kiss itself had been indescribable, it was the fallout from it that had stunk – she was surprised how well things had turned out and how very lovely it was for them now. Sitting on the sand with Will, enjoying mango and raspberry ice cream in homemade cones, the soft splash of the water onto the shore and the odd cry of a night bird overhead the only things disturbing the quiet of this balmy night, was her idea of a perfect evening.

The warm sea breeze took a strand of her hair, nearly blowing it into her ice cream, but Will captured it behind her ear in the knick of time. Their eyes met and she wanted to say a million things, starting with that she remembered every second of their kiss and didn't regret it for an instant – only if he did, and truthfully not even then – but a sudden snap in the bonfire captured their attention, breaking the spell.

Elizabeth took another taste of the sweet fruity cream, releasing a long lazy sigh as she looked out at the tranquil water.

"So there've been how many firsts tonight?" Will asked her.

"Let's see," she thought, switching positions to daintily tuck her legs beneath her.

He smiled at the gesture. Everything about her was so intrinsically female, from her long windblown hair to her soft ruffled shirt that gently fluttered in the breeze. Sword skills and pirate obsession notwithstanding, she was a lady through and through.

"I've never roasted my own clams," she continued. "Or ever eaten them fresh from the shell. And I've never had mango-raspberry ice cream, though it's a wonderful combination……"

She proceeded to dart her soft pink tongue out – he now knew exactly how soft – to swipe across the side of the ice cream, enjoying the taste so much she went in for a second, more pronounced lick. Elizabeth was killing him and he almost had to laugh as he knew the enticement was unintentional and that she was completely unaware of how very sexy she was to him just sitting on the sand, eating an ice cream cone.

Confirming his assumption, her gaze languidly drifted to the fire, completely missing how his burned equally as hot from wanting her.

"I've never sat round a bonfire before," she went on, "which is a horrible crime I'll have to rectify from now on because I love it – the smell of it, the sound, the way the flames leap and dance. Everything about it."

She paused, and he thought perhaps she'd reached the end of tonight's list, but she spoke up again, her tone more serious now. "And I've never shared my song with anyone before, even though I've loved it since I was five. I always knew my father would think it terribly inappropriate; a pirate's life, he believes, is positively not for me."

Will placed his forefinger at the side of her chin, turning her eyes from the fire to look into his. "Well I'd have to disagree." His voice low and sensuous, he told her, "You were a very fine pirate last night."

He saw something spark in her eyes at his words. "Was I?" she asked unsurely.

He knew she remembered the kiss. He also knew that was what she was really asking about. Everything else last night, though wonderful, paled in comparison. With a look of pure pleasure on his face, he replied, "Definitely."

Now that they'd managed to get past the immediate hurdle of what the kiss had meant to the other – granted, by the unfortunate method of simply not discussing it – they fell back to the free and easy flirting of before. But the memory of it still hung in the air, difficult for either of them to ignore, particularly when they both wanted so desperately to do it again.

Elizabeth smiled, clearly pleased, but averted her eyes from his again nevertheless, subtly changing the now dangerous subject. "Since you're going tomorrow, this project – the design and build, all of it – it's absolutely yours now, right? It's a guarantee? That is, there isn't a chance they couldn't pull out and….accept a lower bid….or something." She treaded carefully. She didn't want to offend Will, but she was so anxious for him to have this project. It could be the launching pad for the commercial shipbuilding company he'd always dreamed of.

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile, not missing the cautious diplomacy in her questioning. "No. It's unquestionably my project. Contracts have been signed; it's all in writing. _I_ was the one in danger of breaking my end of the contract by…..well, by…." By what? Being irresponsible? Putting his desire to be with Elizabeth above his work? Placing his fear of losing her ahead of his entire professional future? "….Basically by not showing up," he shrugged.

"And that was silly, Will. Especially over me."

He wondered why she thought that. Or was the underlying translation simply because he would never have a shot with her anyway, so why throw away his career for nothing?

"I'm not worth it," she said, to his great surprise.

"_Yes,_" he earnestly corrected, "you are. You're worth that and more."

Her face colored in an attractive blush. "Well, regardless, I would never stand in your way. You have so much talent, Will. You deserve for the world to see and know what you can do. Just the _Dutchman_ alone is a marvel. I can't wait to go out sailing on her again. She's so beautiful, so perfect."

He was just thinking the same thing about her. He was amazed by Elizabeth, so caught up, so utterly beguiled by her. And in moments like this, when they were off alone, the chemistry and connection was perfect. They were wholly compatible, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together and finally fitting. Being with her felt so right.

Finishing her ice cream after his was long since gone, she inched closer to the light and heat of the fire and, in so doing, closer to Will. He caught a whiff of the sweet soft fragrance that was so indefinably Elizabeth and the sensation was near dizzying. He closed his eyes for a second to savor it, imagining drawing her close to him, discovering new places that held the scent, and pressing his lips to every one.

Incognizant of his amorous thoughts, she shifted her sitting position to stretch out her legs before her, and he meticulously eyed every last millimeter of their long, bare length.

Will reached up to play with a lock of her hair then. "What will you do while I'm away?"

"I don't know," she answered absently, her entire concentration on his fingers in her hair, so close to brushing against her cheek. "I, ah….I'll just do some things with Anna….around…. here and there…..."

She finally gave up, falling silent as he continued to fiddle with her hair. The gesture was soft and sweet and romantic, but at the same time terribly distracting. It made her want that warm, gentle touch in other places. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image.

"We'll do this and that," Elizabeth said overly brightly, struggling to regain her focus. "But I don't want to think about that now. Let's not waste tonight, while you're still here, talking about when you'll be gone."

Will nodded at that. He didn't want to think about being away from her either, not only over the weekend but eventually forever. He knew all to well what his life was like before her and never wanted to go back there again. From the very night they met, he knew there was something special about her. Somehow he was subconsciously aware that she was going to change his life. And had she ever.

Elizabeth was vibrant and alive; bubbly and mischievous; stunning, desirable, lovable, and completely irresistible. She was like sunshine in his life. She made it glow. Just being with her now, running his fingers through the silken softness of her hair, filled him with a warm effulgence that lit all the once dark places in his heart. And when she smiled up at him, like she was doing now, his world was filled with laughter and absolute happiness.

"What?" she asked laughingly. "You're looking at me strangely."

"Am I?"

Even with his rules, there had been women over the years, though such involvements had been fleeting and infrequent. But as much as he had lusted for the women he eventually took to bed – their bed – it could not even begin to compare with how he wanted Elizabeth. His yearning for her was intense, uncontrollable, all-consuming. Yet it was more than simple desire – even mind-boggling, immeasurable, combustible desire. And that's the part he stood in awe of. He had never been with a woman who meant anything to him beyond physical pleasure, which was the very point of his rules, so _they_ would know just that from the start. But Elizabeth…..Elizabeth was something altogether different. Something…._more_. She owned his body in a way no other woman ever had – it responded to her very presence, to her mere voice – but he was beginning to realize more and more she had an equal hold on his heart.

He let her hair fall through his fingers, dropping his hand back to the cool sand, and they fell silent a moment, both looking out to the vastness of the sea. After a spell, Will's attention turned back to Elizabeth. He studied her pensive features, but her gaze remained trained on the dark waters. Then she moved to look at him, finding him watching her, staring into her eyes, wordlessly asking her thoughts.

He didn't need to voice it aloud for her to understand the question. And he was so attentive and courteous, his eyes so sensitive and infinitely soft as he looked at her, that she found herself revealing the unvarnished truth. "I was just thinking how nice this is. Not just _this_," she gestured about them, "but all of my time on the island. I've been myself here, truly myself, and that's a wonderful new thing……Back there, in my old life, they can't see me, who I really am," she said on a sigh.

Will gladly noted that she didn't say 'back _home'_. "They can't, or won't?"

"Either way. It amounts to the same. No one sees me, _really_ sees me."

"I do," he told her without hesitation. "I know all your moods, your expressions. Right now, I can read on your face that you're not sure if you believe me, but you want to." He could tell at a single glance that he'd clearly hit the mark. "Before that, when you were looking out to sea, the sadness was plain in your eyes. And yesterday, in the smithy," he continued, drawing nearer, "you were all challenge and bravado, but underneath it was pure pleasure, a little girl playing at pirates again – and discovering that all grown up there can be some new and very interesting aspects to the game. And right now, you're happy but sad all at once because you're afraid."

"I am n – "

"But even afraid you're an amazing woman, a _real_ woman. Sometimes afraid, sometimes sad and lonely, sometimes playful and exuberant, sometimes downright naughty. I see you, Elizabeth. The real you. And whoever it is they're seeing instead can't possibly compare."

She felt a rush of belonging at his words. He was right, thoroughly right. He did know her, and she did believe him. He knew her so completely, in a way no one else ever had. And he was good to her. He treated her with respect, made her laugh, made her _happy_. When was the last time she could say that about anyone? Will accepted her truly and fully, and her life was richer, happier, more open with him in it. She had no doubt that with Will she could find a love that did not stifle, but freed.

She smiled at him then and it took his breath. Everything about her appealed to him from the very start, but right now it was the sweet, vulnerable look on her face that tore at his heart. "You know, Elizabeth, you don't ever have to go back if you don't want to."

Their gazes met, held, then broke away.

His suggestion stunned her, but starting her thinking too. Could she stay there with him – give up every trace of her old life, every bit of her previous existence – with just the hope of someday, somehow winning Will's affections? And if she never did win them, could she live with seeing him on a daily basis and being only friends, ever friends? But friends had to be better than nothing, didn't it? And maybe Will's mentioning of it was a subtle hint that he really did want her to stay.

With a gentle sigh, Elizabeth sank down to recline against the sand, Will following suit and stretching out alongside her. They lay there shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the overcast sky, until he reached over and silently caught her hand.

"Maybe I won't go back," she softly imparted.

He began running his thumb over her knuckles, playing with her fingers, watching her face as he did so, finding it far more fascinating than the sky.

"Good," he whispered, continuing to toy with the tips of her fingers. "I mean, it's good that you stay here, if you're unhappy there….if you….if you don't want to go back."

Elizabeth stared at him, nodding dumbly. The incredible way she felt when he looked at her the way he was now captured all of her attention.

It was becoming increasingly clear to the both of them that conversation was starting to fall away, words being replaced by the physical. And neither seemed to mind.

Will turned her hand over, rubbing wispy circles into the soft skin. It was just a whisper of a touch really but the tactile, amative pleasure of it was enough to make her riotous heart race and set off her unruly hormones.

"Yes, I'm….I'm very certain I – I wouldn't _have_ to go back," she murmured.

He stroked the cradle of her palm, enjoying the lush pleasure of her velvet skin, wondering how and when he became so addicted to seeing her, touching her, being with her. However it happened, he didn't want to start doing without her now.

His voice an octave lower, a smooth slow drawl, Will replied, "You could stay here with me."

He put his arm around her, folding her into him. As Elizabeth snuggled into his side, never before had she thought it so entirely possible that she could.

* * *

Some time later, they still lay there on the sand, the bonfire fizzling out because neither wanted to alter their position to get up and tend it.

Will gently stroked Elizabeth's head, reveling in the softness of her hair, wrapping it around his hand. She cuddled closer to him in response, and he felt a flood of overwhelming tenderness so strong it was hard to breathe. Yet, at the same time, the feel of her body's contours pressed into his ignited a sharp wanting that was impossible to ignore.

Nestled against Will with her arm over his chest, Elizabeth could feel the chiseled muscles beneath and was suffused with a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature. When she felt the sigh of his breath against her temple, she could no longer resist touching him more intimately, and the granules of sand on his shirt provided a convenient excuse. She brushed them away, smoothing her hand across his pecs, and then kept it there, tracing slow lazy patterns into his chest.

The soft touch inflamed him, making him want to utter a dozen libidinous encouragements. He finally managed to distractedly mumble, "Thanks, honey."

She let out a low, throaty laugh. So he liked it when she touched him that way, did he? He looked over at her and she gave him a hot, suggestive smile. "Thanks for what?" she asked teasingly, caressing him all the more.

"For, um, wiping away the sand."

"Oh."

She absently wet her lips and Will watched, trying but failing to ignore the small flick of her tongue – the tongue he knew was like velvet against his. He was quickly coming undone. He took her hand in his again if for nothing else than to simply stop her continued rubbing.

Hands outstretched before them, touching palm to palm, Elizabeth laced their fingers together. Will found the affectionate action incredibly tender and intimate – even mildly erotic – and knew he was about to do something stupid.

She had regretted their kiss, pretended it had never happened. For that reason and many more, he had no right to touch her….but he was about to.

The fingers of the hand that once held hers stroked up and down the center of her palm in an arousing repetitive motion, and she instantly stilled. He extended her arm, trailing his fingers slowly up the underside of her wrist in soft caresses that left her body vibrating with an innate awareness she'd never experienced until him. His fingers glided further along her forearm, pausing to sensually tease the inside of her elbow and she sucked in a breath. Then he continued up her bare arm, lost in the feel of her supple skin. By the time his fingers reached her shoulder she was so hot for him it was almost impossible to lie still.

Will gently shifted their position so Elizabeth was lying on her back with him propped up on his elbow looking down at her. He regarded her face, its lines, further memorizing those delicate features: soft eyes that captured him body and soul, thickly fringed lashes, high cheekbones, and full perfect lips he'd wanted to kiss since the first moment he'd laid eyes on her.

His attention still intently riveted on her face, he brushed a hand through her hair, unable to get enough of the feel of it, allowing the silken tendrils to spill through his fingers. In that moment he knew there could never be another woman for him; it was her or no one – and it wanted it so desperately to be her.

Will continued to gaze down at Elizabeth, making her feel warmed from the inside out, like coming home. And she studied him too, taking in every nuance, the perfect planes of his face, those marvelous eyes, now gone liquid and darkened to near black, the deceptively soft lips that could awaken her body in ways she longed to repeat and explore.

Having enough of merely looking, Will began to trace her features with his fingers, following over her cheekbone then down along the curve of her jaw to that amazing mouth of hers. His eyes fell to her lips and lost focus, vividly remembering the way she tasted, wanting more of her matchless flavor. The need for her buzzed through him, becoming a near trembling hunger.

Something sultry in the way he looked at her now, curled Elizabeth's toes. He leaned infinitesimally closer, running his fingertips down her throat and across her collarbone. Sliding his hand back up her neck, his fingers slowly fondled her earlobe, teasing her, inciting her.

His voice like a caress, Will murmured, "You make me crazy." The words were out of his mouth before he even realized. It was too late to take them back but he discovered with some surprise he hadn't any wish to.

"I know the feeling," was her whispered reply, giving him all the green light he needed.

He suggestively brushed his thumb over her lower lip, striking immediate sparks of intense desire in her.

Heat pulsed between them. Will leaned down toward Elizabeth and a surge of anticipation thrummed through her. He was going to kiss her. _He_ was. This wasn't her throwing herself at him; it was him wanting her just as much.

He watched her eyes flutter shut. Her mouth was hot and open, ready, inviting his lips to come down on hers. Just as they mouths almost connected a fat, stinging raindrop forcefully plunked down to land square in the middle of Elizabeth's forehead.

The water stunned her and she jerked, in turn stunning Will, who pulled back from her.

She looked up questioningly at the sky. "Will? I think – "

She had no time to finish the warning as the clouds opened up, sending a generous helping of rain down upon them. Will took Elizabeth's hand and they raced up the beach. Though his cabana was closer, he led them toward hers, with the objective of seeing her safely home in what he now realized would be quite a storm.

Arriving in her great room, they stopped to catch their breaths. Will recovered first, looking over at Elizabeth. Even drenched he found her enchanting. She glanced up then, taking in his wet hair and clothes and her lip quivered as she fought off a giggle. He smiled back at her, and soon they were doubled over in laughter.

When their amusement abated, a soft tension seemed to fill the room as an awkward goodnight stretched out before them. Elizabeth wanted Will to resume where they'd left off, to finish the kiss that never was. It was so very important to her that _he_ be the one to do so. She couldn't let him get any wrong ideas. She couldn't scare him away and become just another 'rules girl'. The next move had to be his.

Will looked across the room at Elizabeth, wanting to take her in his arms – more precisely, wanting to throw her on the couch and cover her body with his – but _he_ had started things on the beach. He'd made his intent clear. In light of her feigned amnesia that morning, he was absolutely certain he must leave things up to her now. If she wanted to pursue it, she would.

They stood there silently as the rain drummed steadily down upon the roof, both hesitating. To distract herself from the uncomfortable moment, Elizabeth reached up to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and picked up the first thing in sight, the compass Tia Dalma had given her. She fiddled nervously with it, opening and closing the lid. She finally had the sense to check the fidgeting movement for fear she'd break the hinge, leaving the lid flipped up.

As the thunder rumbled overhead, Will crossed the distance to stand at her side. She remembered too late the true nature of the compass….and the fact that it was now open for him to see. He glanced down at the needle in wonder. "Wow. I know it's broken, but I must be magnetic. Did you notice that it points at me every time?"

Elizabeth laughed anxiously. "Imagine that."

She was saved from any further comment by the sudden loud banging emanating from her bedroom.

The two hurried down the short hallway to investigate. Lightning illuminated the room and they discovered that the wooden shutters that closed the window had become loose and blown open in the heavy wind of the storm.

Will flipped on the lights and Elizabeth dashed over, trying to secure the shutters tight again, but the force of the wind kept blowing them back out of her hands before she could get them refastened. After another failed attempt where she was beginning to think she simply wasn't strong enough to battle this wind, Will came over to assist her. Their hands grazed as they traded off the task, but there was no time to consider the resulting spark. The window had to be closed, and soon, or several things in the bedroom would be ruined.

Will too struggled against the might of the wind that kept forcing the light wood back against the outer wall of the house. He was finally able to secure them by craning his entire upper body nearly completely outdoors. Whatever part of him wasn't drenched before certainly was now.

The window safely closed, he stood there soaking wet, his shirt stuck tight to his chest, revealing every last ripple of defined muscle. She melted inside at the picture he made, wet and raw and masculine….in her bedroom. When her eyes finally climbed up the length of his body to his face, he met her heated gaze and she felt an immediate jolt of electricity.

There was an undeniable charge between them as they both became very aware of where they were standing, mere feet away from her warm tempting bed. Will glanced over at the soft mattress, knowing that she slept naked – thanks to him – an image he didn't need to be picturing at a moment such as this. Elizabeth watched him consider the bed and wanted him with a startling intensity, so much so it was all she could do to keep from jumping him.

But she didn't have to. It was Will who ultimately reached out to pull her to him. Anticipation shined again in her eyes….but he could not bring himself to follow through.

Knowing what he knew about who she was and who he was, what he could and could not offer her, and her sudden about-face that morning, he simply couldn't trust that she truly wanted him. Not yet. He would have to take things slow and easy with her until she made it perfectly clear that _she_ wanted to take their friendship to the next level.

Still, he was about to leave her for days. He deserved some sort of a goodbye. With the back of his hand, he tenderly traced a line down the side of her face. Leaning in, he touched his mouth to her cheek, nuzzling the delicate flesh. Then, shifting still closer, he placed another soft, teasing kiss to the corner of her mouth, just off her lips.

In a low whisper, he told her, "Good night, Elizabeth" and, practicing great restraint, he walked away.

"Good – good night, Will," she said belatedly to his retreating back. Mere seconds later, she heard the soft click of her front door falling closed.

Elizabeth wasn't sure what had just happened – or _hadn't_ happened. But she was certain of one thing now; she wanted Will in her life. She wanted him with her, in every sense of the word. She wanted a relationship with him more than anything else in the world, and she'd give up anything – everything – to have it. She didn't know how she was going to accomplish that with him so skittish about any kind of commitment that lasted longer than one night, but there was time to figure that out. Perhaps, while he was away, she could clear her head, think this thing through more carefully. But one thing was irrefutable now: she wasn't giving up without a fight.

* * *

Hector Barbossa sat in the Endeavour's bar with his back to the wall, nursing a pint of Wray & Nephew and waiting for his associate to arrive. It was an unholy alliance, one that always made him cautious, but a man had to do what a man had to do – especially when it came to getting back what was rightfully his.

There had been some strange goings on in town as of late, and he wanted to see where Jack Sparrow fit into things. The day before, Barbossa had received an unusual phone call inquiring about single female guests at the resort. When he informed the caller that just such guests were a dime a dozen in a Caribbean time that catered to the college crowd, the caller clarified that by 'single' he meant 'alone', and further narrowed the possibilities by saying this woman was potentially hurt, possibly with amnesia. Barbossa wasn't about to let such an odd request go, so he dug and intimidated a little, eventually getting the caller to admit they were looking for a runaway. A wealthy father, from some hole-in-the-wall European speck of land called the Isle of Dolshire, was looking for his daughter. He was apparently a man of some power, influence and – judging by the sizable reward offered – quite a bit of money.

While that explanation made more sense, something about it still didn't ring quite truth – and when something didn't ring true nine times of out ten Sparrow had his hand in it. Which was precisely why Barbossa had called this meeting tonight, to see what further information he could gleam from the most reliable source in town.

"You're late," Barbossa told the man who slid into the seat across from him.

"It couldn't be helped," Cutler Beckett told him unapologetically.

Barbossa snorted at that. "Just tell me what ya know. Someone's been sniffin' around about this girl. You've got information or you wouldn't be here. Out with it."

"Yes, you do know me well," Beckett sneered. "In fact, I've had recent illuminating words with Jack Sparrow. He was in my office not all that long ago."

"Is that right?" Barbossa asked noncommittally.

"It seems young William Turner has gotten himself involved with a strange woman, a non-islander."

"And what's so earth-shattering about that?" Everyone knew his propensity to hook up with women that were here today and gone tomorrow.

"Ah, but this one's not a simple tourist passing through. They claim to have just been married."

"Turner, married?"

Beckett smiled, pleased at his shocked reaction. It wasn't everyday that someone got the better of Hector Barbossa. Waiting till the other man was all but on the edge of his seat, he continued, "According to Sparrow the two were on their way to the honeymoon, actually, when they were picked up."

"Huh. On what charges?" Barbossa asked, taking a swig of the rum.

"Reckless driving, disturbing the peace, destruction of private property, evading capture, a high-speed pursuit and, in the end, resisting. Mercer made the arrest," he said offhandedly.

"Interesting."

"Yes, I thought you'd find it so." Beckett's face contorted into a crafty grin. "I brought this with me," he said, placing a manila envelope on the table. "I thought you might be interested in it as well."

"What is it?"

And here was his ace in the hole. "The woman's mug shot."

Barbossa reached for the envelope, but Beckett pulled it back away. "Of course, I expect you to pay heartily for it, even more than you have in the past."

Barbossa grunted in angry disgust, but still it was no less than he expected. He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and threw them on the table, snatching the envelope from Beckett's hand as he greedily reached for the money.

Yesterday, when Barbossa had finished with the mysterious caller, assuring him he knew of no such girl, the man had been persistent, emailing him a photo of the woman in question and leaving contact information should she turn up – not before reminding him one last time of the substantial reward. He'd looked at the picture, but unfortunately had never laid eyes on the girl. A sad thing too since he would sell out his own mother for that kind of money.

He knew it was a long shot, but wouldn't it just be grand if Turner's woman and this mystery woman were one and the same. Then not only could he cash in on the reward money, he could get a little revenge in on Jack at the same time.

His heart beating a wild tattoo, Barbossa opened the envelope and slid the photo paper out. Turning over the black and white print, his mouth curved into a wicked smile at the now familiar face that stared back. "Well well, now."

* * *

AN: The plot thickens.... ; )

My next update may take slightly longer as I'm also currently working on another classic Pirates fanfic, another Post CotBP, Pre DMC oneshot, that I'll hopefully publish around the same time as the next chapter of Holiday.


	12. Loneliness and Love

~

* * *

If I'm not in love with you, what is this I'm going through tonight?

Why do I go crazy every time I think about you, baby?

Why else do I want you like I do, if I'm not in love with you?

- D. A. Thomas

* * *

Barbossa could scarcely contain his triumph when he'd pulled out Beckett's mug shot and discovered that, probability be damned, Turner's woman and the mysterious runaway were one and the same. He knew in that instant he had significant reward money coming his way, and at the very least Turner – and by default Sparrow – would be faced with a large inconvenience. Possibly they'd even be embroiled in a public scandal if it were true that Turner and the woman were married and rich Daddy Dearest showed up to fetch his no-longer-quite-so-very-innocent daughter back home. Oh, and wouldn't it be fantastic if it all went down right there in the Black Pearl's front lobby, or perhaps poolside! Either way, there'd be plenty of tourists around to be offended and enough cameras present to guarantee it would make a spot on the local news. This was just the sort of thing to tarnish a resort's reputation, and that's when he would swoop in – to further gossip, spread some false rumors of his own…..Who knows? Maybe this and this alone could be the avenue to finally reclaim what was rightfully his.

Though it was still two in the morning, there was no chance in hell he was waiting till daylight to make this call; beauty sleep would just have to be interrupted to receive his fortuitous information. Then again, he couldn't afford to anger this affluent, well-connected man any more than was necessary or the entire plan could backfire.

Closing himself up in his office and locking the door, all the better to stave off interruptions from the idiots that called themselves his overnight front desk crew, Barbossa fired up his computer with the intention of doing a quick search to find out just where on earth the Isle of Dolshire was. The original caller had described it as 'European', so maybe with the time difference the cash demand – er, call – could be made now _and_ he could save face before a not-so-sleep-deprived Daddy Warbucks.

His fingers were poised over the keys, prepared to ferret out the time difference, when a sickening thought occurred to him. What if once his darling daughter was back home safely ensconced in her bed of roses, good ol' Papa decided to renege on that offer of a reward? And what if, worse still, he handled it all privately and there was no scandal, no bad press, just a heartbroken Turner left behind – and who cared about him?

He began to wonder if perhaps revealing the woman's whereabouts was the best course of action after all. Maybe rather than tell Papa where she was he could simply tell him he had her……

In his lifetime, Barbossa had been involved in plenty of petty thievery but never something as big time as this. Could he commit to a kidnapping, a ransom? Maybe he could just pretend to have kidnapped her but still demand the ransom. But no, that wouldn't work. They knew were the Endeavour was. They'd come looking for her and it wouldn't do at all to have her walking around town free. No, if he was going to go with a ransom demand he would have to have the girl here with him…..

Before he could decide what to do, Barbossa went ahead with a blank search on the Isle of Dolshire. For all he knew these people didn't even speak English, in which case he'd need some sort of an interpreter. Then again, the original caller had spoken English. He shook his head to clear it. Perhaps 2:08 am with the slosh of rum still burning his belly wasn't the best time or circumstances to be contemplating a kidnapping. But that and all other thoughts were arrested when the screen filled with his search results. Some were articles on the history of the island, a few offered maps of the country and its landscape, but what got more hits than anything else, comprising the entire top half of the screen and every popular image result, were various pictures of the very same woman whose mug shot currently stared back at him.

There was no mistaking; it was the same girl. But who on earth was she? This was no MySpace or Facebook hit. These were professional photos, either media or paparazzi or both. Who was this woman? She had to be someone important. He clicked on a picture, read the caption, and nearly fell out of his chair.

Twenty minutes later, there was no disputing what he had found. Turner's woman, the runaway, was Princess Elizabeth Swann, heir to the throne and the next ruler of the island city-state.

_Well then, a kidnapping is definitely out_, was the first thought his rum-fogged mind conjured up. There was no way he was touching this situation with a ten foot pole. But this could still work out as he'd original planned……Better in fact.

Barbossa sniggered connivingly to himself. Turner had gotten himself entangled with a real life princess, and on Sparrow's property – that should have been _his_. Perhaps he could make the authorities believe it was Sparrow and Turner that were holding her against her will, although that would be bloody unlikely if she really had voluntarily married the man, as Sparrow alleged. Still he'd heard how these royals worked. At the very least they would want to avoid a public scandal – and what could be more humiliating than a runaway princess shacked up with a nobody ship builder at a two-bit resort owned by a would-be pirate?

…..Yes, that's where the money was. He'd lead them to Elizabeth, do it all on the down low, and the king would show his gratitude. Either that or face having his daughter's – check that, his _engaged_ daughter's – torrid affair splashed all over the headlines. Forget just cash money, he was about to be handed the Black Pearl on a silver platter.

* * *

With an abbreviated knock, Gillette, Bluetooth in place, let himself into the king's study.

"What is it now?" Weatherby asked irritably.

Gillette knew the man would be in no good mood after their early morning meeting detailing how the search must be stepped up, how things could not go on much longer this way and keep the public still believing the princess had fallen ill. Without photos, footage – some type of new information to back up their claims – it was only a matter of time before the media, and then the public, grew suspicious. Already he'd began to hear various rumors: that the young princess was in a coma, that she was dying or already dead, and worst of all the truth, that they we're lying and this 'illness' was a part of massive government cover-up.

In light of all that, he wasn't certain how the king would take what he was about to tell him. He wasn't even sure how to take it himself. "A Mr. Barbossa is on the phone for you, sir."

"I don't know any Barbossa. At a time like this, I'd think the least you could do was to continue proper call screening. Or are you just letting anyone through these days?"

Gillette cleared his throat nervously. "I believe you'll want to speak to him, sir. He claims to have news of the princess's whereabouts. He refused to relay the information to anyone but you." The king's face grew grave and ashen at the disclosure. "Of course, I'll be listening in on the line."

Weatherby nodded and picked up his receiver.

* * *

Ten minutes later the call had ended, and the news wasn't good. If this Hector Barbossa was to be believed the princess was alive and well, a most joyous revelation to everyone involved, particularly the king. However, according to Barbossa, the manner in which she had been living since she ran away could prove quite scandalous to the family – and he, of course, threatened to reveal all to the media if he was not properly compensated. Moreover, Barbossa refused to provide further details until an emissary had arrived with a preliminary payment. This was a delicate situation that could soon turn into an outright nightmare, especially since the princess had run away of her own volition and there was no telling if she would go back with them voluntarily.

"What should I do, Gillette?" Weatherby asked. His lost, anxious tone of voice was that of a father's, not a king's. "If he knows where my daughter is, I have to find her. I have to bring her home. No matter what she's gotten herself into, I have to bring her home."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Gillette flipped through the information spread out on the desk, lists, schedules, maps of the Caribbean and the little island in question. "I say we dispatch Murtogg and Mullroy." When the king shot him a doubtful look, Gillette continued, "I know they're not the most….proficient….agents employed by the crown, but they are the closest to the island. With the proper orders issued, they can be there by daybreak local time." Weatherby still appeared unsure, so he further assured him, "At the very least they can confirm if the woman in question is truly the princess. And, if she is, they can make contact, hopefully quietly secure her in the time it takes me to arrive."

"All right. Do what you have to do."

* * *

Elizabeth bit her lip as she contemplated the object she held between her fingers, a thick gold band complete with its massive diamond. She had forgotten all about it, forgotten she'd had it with her all this time. It was her engagement ring from James, presented to her as formally as he had proposed, with a full crowd in attendance.

As they were leaving Brazil, she'd been tired and upset after one too many formal teas in which she'd had to, all over again, produce false smiles and forced happiness when asked about her upcoming wedding. She'd taken the ring off and flung it carelessly into her purse. It had fallen to the bag's bottom, completely disregarded until this morning when she'd been digging into its deep recesses, searching for her missing compact. Her finger had hit the ring instead.

Perhaps shamefully so, it hadn't taken her long to decide what to do with it. Of course, that meant she'd had to make an admission to Anna, whose help she needed, but it made little difference now. The woman was her true friend, and Elizabeth had found it remarkably easy to tell her the truth she had yet to speak aloud. She told Anna how she'd run away from her home, from an unhappy life, a revelation that seemed to come as no surprise to Anna – which she supposed was to be expected; she _had_ shown up on the island out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, with nothing but the clothes on her back.

However, the next part of the confession, the part she hadn't told anyone else, _was_ a shock to her friend. She had run away to escape an engagement that she'd never wanted to entire into in the first place. Now she was here with no money and no connections she could reach out to that wouldn't put her back exactly were she had been to begin with. When Elizabeth explained the rest, telling Anna of the ring and her plans for it, her friend wholeheartedly agreed.

She was on her way over right now but, left alone, Elizabeth was beginning to feel guilt and fear seep into her heart. If she went through with this, if she sold James's engagement ring, it would be severing a major tie to her old existence. Was she ready for that? To so easily discard the last remaining symbol of the man who had loved her in his own way? And was she prepared to turn her back on her father, which refusing James and staying in this new life was tantamount to?

But she would have to be. She wasn't going back any time soon, didn't even want to think about it. In an actual relationship or not, she wasn't leaving Will, who she already missed terribly though they'd just said goodbye last night. And if she was going to stay – which she_ was_ – she would need things of her own. She couldn't keep borrowing from Anna indefinitely. So she'd sell the ring, do it heartlessly, fearlessly….and just not allow herself to consider her actions too closely.

* * *

When Anna showed up at her door and Elizabeth produced the ring, she was dumbstruck, finally managing to breathlessly proclaim that the ring would fetch an even greater sum then she'd originally imagined – and Anna was right.

After leaving the jewelry store, the two women drove in Anna's car to the other side of the island. It was a two hour drive, but it was where the small island's only shopping centre was located, a mall that Anna assured Elizabeth had the best deals and most stylish clothing. When they arrived, Elizabeth was impressed with what she found. While it was nothing compared to the shopping sprees she'd known in her lifetime, the centre did have everything she needed at reasonable – compared to what her father usually spent, downright ridiculous – prices. And the clothing and shoes and things were actually quite nice.

In the short time they'd been there, she had already found some very lovely things: a silk blouse; three skirts; various tanks, tees, and camis; a pair of figure-hugging jeans; several pairs of shorts; and two pairs of crop pants, one loose and one fitted.

They were currently on their way across the complex to a store that Anna promised had killer dresses and heels. Not exactly practical clothing, Elizabeth knew, but if she were planning more dates with Will…..

Walking past a storefront, Elizabeth absently gazed over at the front window display. It featured two white stone mannequins that were headless but, judging by the shape and curve of their bodies were clearly supposed to be a man and a woman. Her eyes zeroed in on the tight t-shirt the male mannequin was wearing, how it pulled snug against hard stone and, in this case literally, chiseled abs. Her mind went immediately to Will, remembering him wearing similar shirts and conjuring up an image of how he'd look in this particular one. And it was no surprise. This had to be about the millionth time she'd thought about Will today. All while was she was getting dressed that morning, when she found James's ring, while they were selling it, driving across the island, and now shopping, the entire time random thoughts of Will kept invading her brain. Certainly he had occupied her thoughts and awareness when he was there with her, but now that he'd been removed from her immediate atmosphere it made her realize all the more how deep her desire was to see him, to be near him. Now that she couldn't, it was setting her body on edge, like a smoker in need of a fresh hit of nicotine.

They'd walked only a few stores further when Anna stopped to look at a storefront display of a pair of black lace up boots that she deemed 'simply divine'. While Anna was contemplating the merits of the boots, Elizabeth's arm was brushed by a man walking past. Glancing up, she caught just the merest glimpse of his profile as he mumbled an "I'm sorry" and went on. As he continued to walk, she noticed how his long dark hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of his neck. She knew it wasn't Will. It couldn't be. She hadn't gotten a decent look from the front, but the voice didn't match. Still, the random man looked enough like Will to make her heartache for him all over again. This wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all.

"Elizabeth?"

"Hmm?" she asked, snapping back to attention.

"I was just asking you how you thought the boot looked," Anna said. Elizabeth still looked confused, so she gestured toward her foot, the one currently encased in the footwear in question.

"Oh." Elizabeth had completely missed her trying on the shoe. "Yes. I, I didn't realize you had it on."

"What's the matter with you today?" Anna asked in amusement. "You seem distracted. Maybe your blood sugar's low. We could grab a pretzel from the stand ahead," she suggested as she removed the boot. "They have this amazing coconut almond concoction, sort of the Caribbean twist on the modern soft pretzel. It's _amazing_. You just have to try – What are you staring at?" she asked, looking up to find her friend gazing dreamily off into the distance.

"I'm sorry. It's just that man there." Elizabeth pointed him out. "He reminded me of Will."

Anna gave him a cursory glance. To her eyes, the two men had little in common besides longish, dark hair. "Okay."

When they reached the shopping centre's food court, Anna had them stop while she bought them each one of the aforementioned coconut pretzels. She was still hoping that plunging blood sugar and not a case of hopeless lovesickness was to blame for her friend's odd behavior. Not that she didn't want Will and Elizabeth to get together, but if pining for Will really was to blame for Elizabeth's peculiar mood then this 'Girls' Day' shopping trip – on her callous fiancé's dime – wasn't going to be any fun for either of them.

Anna paid for the pretzels and turned to Elizabeth, holding hers out to her, but she kept standing there looking off to the side again, absentmindedly chewing her lower lip.

Anna let out an impatient sigh. "Girl, take the pretzel. I swear, what _is_ it with you?"

Elizabeth took the food from her hand. "I know, I know. I was just….I…." Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she finally admitted, "I was wondering what Will's doing right now."

"Elizabeth, he's a big boy….which I'm sure you know first hand," she added under her breath. "He can take care of himself."

"Of course he can," she agreed, taking a bite of her pretzel like the matter was settled. A second later, though, she continued, "But this is such an important account for him. I wish there was something I could do to help, or at the very least know how things were working out."

"I'm sure he's fine. He's good at what he does, and it's only business after all. He's not off fighting a duel for your honor, or something."

"I know that," Elizabeth answered with a touch of defensiveness. "This isn't about me at all. My preoccupation with Will today has nothing to do with us – me," she quickly corrected.

"Yes, it does," Anna replied laughingly. "More than you realize. And I'd hate to be around if something ever actually did pose a threat to Will. I bet you'd take the person down with your bare hands."

Elizabeth gave her a playful glare. "Just eat your pretzel."

* * *

Once they'd finished their snack, they set off again toward Anna's favorite store with the renewed idea of finding Elizabeth some flirty, sexy clothes. But, as Anna pointed out things of interest here and there amongst the shops, Elizabeth's mind keep continually going back to Will. Though she knew she was thinking of him incessantly, she just couldn't help herself.

They finally reached the store and Anna hadn't been wrong. The clothing there was to die for. Elizabeth found some cute wedge sandals and a pair of crazy heels that she knew would make her legs look like they went on for miles. Anna also talked her into trying on two dresses that were completely impractical but absolutely beautiful. The first was an off the shoulder purple gown with a high slit that looked stunning on her but could only be worn on the rarest of occasions. Nevertheless, Anna convinced her to buy it – though it was the secret thought of wearing it to some party someday with Will that had cinched the deal. The second dress, the one she currently wore while standing before the full length three-way mirror, would be a more difficult sell.

"I don't know about this one, Anna."

The dress had a plunging neckline and an insanely high hemline. On top of that, it was backless and skintight, hugging her every curve.

"I don't know if I have the guts to wear this in public."

"So where it in private," Anna suggested, a naughty expression lighting her face.

"At this price, someone had better see it." It cost nearly a third of the money she'd made on the sale of the ring.

"That's not what I meant," her friend laughed. "Someone would see it – a certain man who shall remain nameless – though how long he'd see it _on_ is anyone's guess."

But Elizabeth seemed not to have heard the insinuation, mumbling to herself, "Will _does_ like it when I wear things that show my legs." When she realized went she'd said, she silently admonished herself, both for thinking of Will again and for saying such a thing aloud. Anna looked at her knowingly. "I mean, I…..I've seen him looking…. And, the other night at dinner, when he was stroking my knee he – " She caught herself, stopping that train of thought. "That is, he seems to like it….when I wear short things."

Anna's raised brow said it all, but she refrained from commenting beyond, "Then you absolutely have to get this dress."

When Elizabeth returned from changing back into her own clothes, Anna announced that she wasn't the only one who wanted to find a dress that would drive her man crazy. So she too dashed into the dressing room to try on something.

Elizabeth had reached her budget in that store, wishing to save some of the ring's profits beyond just today. As it was, she wouldn't allow herself to buy a single thing more besides the undergarments she needed, and that would be their last stop. With nothing left to look at then, she let her mind wander while Anna was in the dressing room.

She closed her eyes. They had been walking all day and, after her late night with Will, she was admittedly somewhat tired…..Will. Everything today had made her think of him, from a food they'd first shared together, to a song playing on the sound system overhead, to an outfit that she thought looked like him. Then she caught a whiff of his cologne. The pleasant aroma jumpstarted her heart and instantly created a mental image of his intense chocolate eyes, his devastating smile. It was astounding how well her Will-starved mind could replicate his scent….But wait. She sniffed the air again. That was no invention. She really did smell his cologne.

Her eyes flew open and settled on a man twelve feet away with his back to her. The same wavy brown hair. The same general build. She ran to him, grabbing his arm. "Wi – "

The man turned with confused eyes….that definitely did not belong to Will.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I thought you were someone else."

"It's alright," he smiled kindly, but quickly left that area of the store.

What was the matter with her, Elizabeth wondered. It's like she was going mad. She was so utterly obsessed with Will she'd begun accosting strangers! Will wasn't even on the island. How could he be in this store? It all made rational sense to her now but ….a moment ago. Why did every man have to keep reminding her of Will? Why did she keep thinking about him at all, going on and on about him?

Of course, because she wanted him with her. She wanted to be by his side. And if she couldn't be with Will right that moment, than she needed to be talking about him, thinking about him. Just being by herself, just being with Anna, wouldn't do. It had to be Will. He's the only one her heart craved.

It had never been this way with James. But then in what possible way could James ever compare to Will? She'd never felt anything for James, for any man, that could compare in anyway to what she felt for Will. She didn't consider too heavily what that meant right now.

Turning back toward the dressing room, she saw Anna watching her curiously.

"What was that all about?" Anna asked.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth hoped against hope she hadn't seen.

"You, grabbing that man," was her deadpan reply.

Elizabeth sighed. So much for that then. She looked away in embarrassment as she quietly confessed, "I thought it was Will."

"Wow." Anna turned away from Elizabeth to look at her own reflection in the mirror. "How does this look on me?"

Elizabeth had to admit it was eye-catching. The coloring perfectly complemented her friend's mocha complexion. "Jack will eat his heart out."

"Good." Anna caught Elizabeth's eye through the mirror and saw the pensive longing in her expression. "I tell you what, we'll find you something in the next store that'll have Will as unbalanced as you are," she said with a wink.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were in a lingerie store with Anna helping Elizabeth pick out various scant nighties, push-up bras – and a few regular ones – and an assortment of lacey underwear and satin thongs. Elizabeth enjoyed selecting the provocative undergarments, not that anyone was going to be seeing them….maybe…..well, not anytime soon…..

Anna walked up to her carrying a sheer, sexy little chemise and matching, translucent panty. "I bet Will would like this." Elizabeth made no comment, only silently feeling the fabric with her forefinger and thumb, so Anna made another attempt. "He won't be able to keep his hands, or his mouth, off of it." When Elizabeth still didn't bite, Anna tried another tactic to fish for the information she desired. "Maybe you could wear it Monday night, when he comes home. You know, a little reunion lovin'…" Her innuendos were getting her nowhere, so Anna finally bluntly asked, "Are you sleeping with Will?"

That brought Elizabeth's eyes back to her. "What? No."

"Word going around Calypso is that you two are doing the nasty on a regular basis, shagging like rabbits every night in his bed and every afternoon in yours."

"_What_?!" Then Elizabeth realized that could partially be her own fault. After all, she was the one who put the idea in Jeannette's head. The woman obviously hadn't kept it to herself. "No, Will and I aren't shagging like rabbits," she whispered, looking around the store to see if anyone was listening to their conversation.

"Not like rabbits, but at least some of the time?"

"No. Never. I've never slept with Will." _Or anyone else_, she silently added….._Yet_.

"Well, that shows remarkable strength on your part. I've never known a woman to hang around Will this long and not be screwing his brains out….Then again, I've never known Will to _allow_ a woman to hang around this long, even if she was banging him."

"_Anna_."

"It's true. And don't tell me you haven't ever thought of it."

"Of hanging around Will this long?" she asked in feigned innocence.

"_No_," Anna said, knowing full well Elizabeth was 'misunderstanding' her on purpose. "Shagging him. Don't tell me you haven't thought of shagging him. I may be gone on Jack, but I'm not blind. I _can_ see other men, and Will is quite the thing…..If my affections weren't otherwise engaged, I'd want a piece of that."

"Anna!"

"I'm serious." She gave Elizabeth, who was fingering the sheer material again, a once over. "And you want a piece of Will, too. I can see it in your eyes." When Elizabeth made no denial, she further added, "You _do_. So why fight it? You want him and this is just the thing to get him….It's soft as silk but it'll have him hard as a rock."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and she let go of the fabric. With a shocked laugh, she told her, "I'm not listening to any more of this."

Still, when the sales woman rang up Elizabeth's items, the chemise set was amongst them.

* * *

After loading all their purchases into Anna's car, they climbed in and waited in a traffic lineup to pull out of the parking lot. When they were finally the next to turn out, Anna watched for traffic while she continued to tease her friend about her new clothes, Will, and how to best put the various pieces of lingerie to use. But her voice fell away from Elizabeth's ears when she by chance glanced inside at the passengers of a car passing by on the main road.

_It looked like_…._but it couldn't_ be, her mind argued. _She had to get out of there_, she panicked.

"Elizabeth?" Anna asked. She didn't answer at first and when she did her voice was rushed and alarmed. "You were staring again and not listening," Anna pointed out.

"I'm sorry, I….I just thought I saw – "

"Let me guess, you thought you saw Will again."

Elizabeth only wished that were the case. Still, it was impossible that her father's agents found her here. Well, not impossible, but highly unlikely. And why on earth would her father send these two to find her? And why would Gillette let him? They were the most bumbling, incompetent members of her father's employ. No, it simply didn't add up. She must be seeing things again. It was this whole separation anxiety thing with Will. It was starting to affect her in all sorts of ways.

"Elizabeth, it's all right. I've been where you are myself," Anna sighed. "Right now you've got a one-track mind, and I'm afraid the only cure for you is to bring that train into the station," she suggestively proclaimed as she pulled out onto the road.

* * *

Inside that other car, twenty vehicles ahead of Anna's on the roadway, two men sat arguing in a less amicable fashion.

"I told you it was a right we were meant to take and not a left," Mullroy scolded. "Now you've added a good two hour's time to the drive."

"I still say it was a left," was Murtogg's only defense.

"Then why is it we've been lost for the past few hours?"

Murtogg shrugged. "Because you don't know how to properly navigate."

"Well if _you_ could follow simple directions…."

"It's _your_ fault we ended up on the wrong side of the island to begin with."

"Wrong side, right side," Mullroy scoffed. "We still would have made it if you hadn't led us onto that wrong turn."

"The arrow was pointing straight up. _Straight up_. How, I ask you, can we go straight up when cars can't fly?"

Mullroy let out a frustrated huff of breath. "And an arrow pointing straight up can't possibly have any other meaning than for your car to start flying?"

Murtogg thought about it. "No."

"You're an idiot. It means follow the road straight ahead."

"Can't be. We were at a fork. It was either right or left."

"And we should've went right."

"Do you suppose Gillette will have our heads for showing up to meet this Barbossa fellow late?"

"The sooner we get there and maybe we won't have to tell him at all," Mullroy replied.

"Ohh." Murtogg nodded, thinking that an entirely brilliant suggestion. "Right."

* * *

That night was one of the most miserable of Elizabeth's life thus far. She'd thought of nothing but Will the entire day through, and even now he still continued to torment her, keeping her from sleep. It was some kind of new, deep possession she'd never experienced before, as if he'd taken over her senses.

Everything within her screamed for Will. His chocolate curls, those expressive eyes, his incredible lips; they all haunted her. It added up to just one thing: she needed him back with her – now. Not only his body but his person, him, _Will_. She ached for the whole package, his voice, his scent, the gentle way he would tease her, the soft words he always spoke to her right before they said goodnight. He had a way like no one else of letting her be herself yet still protecting her, and he could make her feel like no one else ever had a hope of doing. He had become the one surety in her life, and she missed him so much she could scream. She'd known that she would as soon as he'd told her he was going, but this went beyond anything she could have expected. This kind of yearning for Will was to the point of being physically painful. When he left the island, it was like he took her whole world with him.

Once again, Elizabeth compared herself to an addict experiencing withdrawal. After spending hours here tossing and turning in bed, longing for Will, she couldn't stand it another moment. Throwing the covers off her overheated body, she got up and walked over to the window, pulling open the shutters and looking out into the night.

Back in the house where she grew up, she'd spent endless hours imagining freedom and happiness in a life very much like the one she was leading now. She'd dreamt of a man who would knew her for who she was, a man who was honorable without needing to cling to convention, a man who she would sail away with to make love on some deserted beach. All those years, she thought that freedom and finding that sort of feeling with a man would make everything right. Yet now that she seemed to have found him, and all but the last part had come true, she was almost as miserable as before, just in a different way.

It was …..She didn't even have words to define what it was, to identify these feelings. It was almost like a sickness, and there was no remedy, no cure…..except Will Turner. Things simply wouldn't be the same until he was back home with her. That's all she needed. One word, one smile from him, and she could sleep again, be content again; she knew it. Everything would be all right again once he was back.

But what did that say about her? If one weekend apart from Will threw her into such turmoil, how would she ever be able to go back to her country? How could she ever get used to living without him in her life? Though there were still so many barriers standing in their way, Elizabeth couldn't delude herself any longer. In the beginning, she'd tried to tell herself the pull toward Will was only a matter of physical chemistry, pheromones, and endorphins. But this was more than just an attraction. She had serious feelings for Will – just how serious was something she still wasn't prepared to examine….

* * *

The following evening Will returned to his hotel room, running a tired hand through his disheveled hair. Yesterday had not been a very good time. He'd been distracted and miserable. All throughout his meetings, while he was discussing needs with his clients and drawing up appropriate outlines, his mind had been plagued by thoughts of Elizabeth – where she was, what she was doing, if she was all right, if she was thinking of him at all. He couldn't seem to get anything done, at least not to his standards. His thoughts were single-mindedly toward Elizabeth and Elizabeth alone. It got to the point where he had to force himself to pull it together in front of the clients. Their business relationship had already begun on shaky ground. If he couldn't show more focus in his work, they would think he was truly unprofessional, or just completely insane, totally unbalanced – and he was beginning to feel like it.

But Will had finally managed to complete the plans to his client's specifications, and they loved them. Today, he'd return to the corporate offices, finalizing the designs and making the necessary changes. Now it was full speed ahead with the build that would be based from his island, operating out of his warehouse, set to start week after next.

Bouncing down with a thud to sit on the hard hotel mattress, he still didn't know how he'd been able to get it together enough to pull of a full day's work running on high stress and little sleep. The night before had been something like torture for him. With no immediate need to focus elsewhere, his mind went again and again to Elizabeth. It was like she was a siren bewitching him. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her, her face, her form, her sensuality. She teased him, taunted him, kept him from sleep.

And he knew it was no good for him. Wanting her would only come back to hurt him in the end. He would be best leaving well enough alone, and yet he still pined for her. Just thinking of Elizabeth now made him smile. He needed her. That was it; there was no other way to describe it. This was more than simple lust – though there was plenty of that too. It was an uncontrollable desire to be with her, a gut-wrenching overpowering need for her. He _craved_ her. She was as intoxicating as any drug. She was in his system and he was wholly addicted. And, like any narcotic, he knew his addiction would destroy his life, but he couldn't help himself. She was the sweetest sort of pain, a drug like no other – and he needed another hit.

This was like a testing ground. If he couldn't make it during this short and simple separation with the promise of a reunion at the end, how could he ever do without her for good once she went back home…to Norrington's arms?

Will was no fool. He'd struggled through two miserable days and already one sleepless night drowning in feelings and emotions he was powerless to control. What did it all mean, missing her so much, sinking beneath the weight of this irrepressible longing, this need in the barest sense of the word? Why must he have Elizabeth with him as if she were his blood, the very breath of his life? Wasn't it awfully revealing that he wanted her, ached for her so? That merely thinking of her was enough to drive him to complete distraction, leaving him utterly discombobulated?

He had never experience anything like this before. Elizabeth spoke to his mind, heart, and body all at once; she touched every part of him. This was stronger than anything he'd ever known, and if it were merely an infatuation, simply an intense attraction in need of satisfaction, then why did he have visions of holding her, loving her, being by her side forever, living on the beach together, sharing a bed, a life? Why was it so easy to see – to _want _– her as the mother of his children?

There was only one explanation and it hit him squarely in the heart. He was in love with her. He had fallen helplessly, desperately, head over heels in love with Elizabeth – into a love like he'd never known. He knew it as surely as he knew the sky was blue. The realization was heady, overpowering, and…..and completely damning.

Where could he go from here? A gamut of emotions ran through his heart. He may love Elizabeth fiercely, but the odds were still more than improbable that she'd ever think of him as anything other than a one night stand, a pleasant distraction on her way to bigger and better things, if even that. That was the crux of his dilemma. As certain as he was of his love for Elizabeth, he was equally certain that it could never end well for him. He'd fallen in love unwisely, with someone who would never love him back. Suddenly he saw his future play out before him. He'd lived in fear of ever hurting a woman but instead now _he_ would become the victim of a love gone wrong – and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it but go along for the ride.

* * *

That Sunday certainly wouldn't go down on a list of Elizabeth's favorite days. She was mopey and restless and lonesome for Will to a degree that still surprised her. She didn't know what to do with these feelings, or what they meant. But that wasn't entirely true. There was a niggling suspicion, something deep inside her, that said she knew exactly what these feelings meant – and it terrified her.

Anna had offered to take her out shopping again, or just into town, but Elizabeth's heart wasn't in it. She hung around the Black Pearl, mostly lying outside the private pool with Anna until the slightly older woman remarked that she was depressing her and went to seek her amusement with Jack – which only worked to further remind Elizabeth how she wished she could do the same with Will. And that too was a sign of how deeply in trouble she was.

Later, after eating dinner at The Dauntless, Elizabeth went back to her cabana, showered, and got ready for bed, preparing herself for another depressing, sleepless night ahead. She tried for a half hour to listen to the Alicia Keys CD Anna had lent her, hoping it would lull her, but each song only served to remind her of Will – a fact she didn't fault the singer for; just about everything reminded her of Will, from the juice she'd drank at the breakfast – the same brand Will had served her that first morning together – to the discussion of Carnival she'd overheard, to the familiar bikini she'd donned to sun in – the very same she'd worn the afternoon Will had rubbed her down with suntan lotion, making her body hum – to every blade of grass and every granule of sand.

She sighed, letting out a self-pitying little whine as she sat up in bed. How different would things be if Will had come home tonight? For starters, she was just lonely and desperate enough to do something stupid – like throw herself at him. And quickly another of her nightly fantasies engulfed her……..

_She'd invite Will into her cabana and lay bare all of her feelings for him. He'd be surprised at first, but if she kissed him just right, pressed against him just so, he would give in. Desire would take him, and she'd surrender to it too. They'd both lose themselves in passion, hot and dark and powerful. She'd give herself to him here in this bed. And it would be a glorious night. She had no doubt that he knew exactly how and when to push all a woman's right buttons – at least hers anyway. _

She threw off the new nightgown she was wearing. There was no one to admire it anyhow and, picturing her imaginary night with Will, it was suddenly very hot in her bedroom. And who could blame her? Thoughts of a fantasy night with Will were enough to do that to any woman. It would be amazing, fantastic, earth-moving, and…..short-lived. Will didn't do forever, and somehow she would have to find the strength to return to her old life.

Perhaps it was a good thing he wasn't here after all – but no. No, she wanted him here even if it did mean more restraint and repression, two things Elizabeth thought she'd left behind when she jumped off that ship what seemed like lifetimes ago. Still, she could control herself; she could. Sex and these urges Will had created in her were unfamiliar and vaguely unsettling anyhow. Tonight she'd be happy to take his friendship, just his simple presence. A hug would be nice. Feeling his arms around her, encircling her safe and warm, understood and cared for on _some_ level, even if it wasn't the ultimate one she wanted.

Just then her cell phone rang and Elizabeth jumped. It was after eleven. Anna told her she was going out with Jack tonight, so there was little chance it could be her. Fumbling to cover herself with the sheet – a silly thing really, as if the caller could see her – she grabbed the phone from her night table and glanced at the caller ID. The name displayed there made her heart do a little flip.

Pulling open the phone, Elizabeth spoke a breathless, "Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart. How are things at the Black Pearl?"

His tone, his words clutched at her heart, making her melt inside. "Will, it's so good to hear your voice." It left her so entirely overjoyed in fact, her eyes filled with water, blurring the familiar shapes of her bedroom.

"It's great to hear yours." The heartwarming tenderness in his voice confirmed that it was true.

Elizabeth felt tears spilling down her cheeks unchecked. Lonely, sad, with complete open candor, she brokenly admitted, "I miss you, Will."

His tone was filled with a rich mixture of yearning and elation as he answered on a sigh, "Elizabeth, I miss you too."

All pride somehow forgotten, she asked, "When are you coming home?" _To me_, were the words obviously missing from the question.

Though it seemed impossible, Will's voice softened even more. "Just as soon as I can. My flight leaves tomorrow night at eight……I wish it were right now."

"So do I."

"So tell me what you've been up to. I can see you and Anna getting into all sorts of trouble." He paused, as if to let her answer, but quickly retracted. "No, maybe you'd better save that till I'm back and I can exact revenge on whichever offending male volunteered to learn your new dance," he teased.

"There was nothing like that," Elizabeth laughed. "We just went shopping."

"What are you doing right now?" he asked, his voice low, deeper. All at once the call seemed to have gone from a touching reunion to late-night erotica in zero point five seconds.

"Lying here in bed." Her characteristic boldness took over despite her uncertainty about his feelings. Her tone matching his seductive one, she added, "Thinking of you."

"Lying there naked, I imagine. Just the way I taught you."

She could hear the sexy little smirk in his voice and her heart beat erratically, her body throbbing right along with it. She closed her eyes and took her bottom lip between her teeth, letting his voice wash over her like a soft caress. "Well, it _is_ more freeing."

He chuckled soft and low and she let the hand holding the sheet up fall away as she sank back down against the mattress, imaging him there beside her.

Suddenly remembering the entire reason for his absence, Elizabeth veered the conversation in a different direction, eager to know how things had gone. "Enough about me. What happened with you? Did you finish the blue prints? And did they love them? But they _must_ have. You're so brilliant at what you do. Tell me it went well," she impatiently instructed though she'd hardly given him a chance to answer.

"Yes, it did." Of course, he left out the part where he very nearly lost it that first day to endless visions of her. "The build starts next Monday."

"That's fantastic, Will. And so exciting."

"Yeah? You can help me if you'd like, or just simply watch." He hesitated as if embarrassed by his eager offer. "I mean, I know how you like nautical things."

"I'd like that, to be there. Really, I would."

She was all light and sweetness. He wanted to drink her up and drown in her. "Elizabeth," he murmured, saying nothing more, but nothing more was necessary.

"I'll meet you at the airport, Will. Just as soon as you get off the plane."

"Alright, angel."

The line fell silent. Clearly goodbyes were in order, but neither was ready to let go.

"Tell me more about the ships you're going to build?" Elizabeth suddenly asked, genuinely wanting to know as well as latching on to the first conversation point that came to mind that would keep him talking at length.

"Okay," Will said, a smile clear in his voice again at her enthusiasm – and her continued desire to talk. "Well, I was thinking for the flagship I could….."

* * *

By the time Elizabeth finally clicked her phone closed it was well past one thirty. Yet she was nowhere near being ready to sleep. She was still too flooded with emotion, her mind buzzing to make sense of it all.

Ever since her mother died when she was very young, Elizabeth hadn't known true acceptance. Imperious, condescending affection, that described her relationship with James to a tee. And, though she knew he meant well, her father was unfortunately not all that different. He loved her; of that she was certain. He dotted on her as a child, giving her everything she wanted – as long as it was what he thought best. Therein lie the problem. Her vision of her life and his vision for it differed grossly. The things she wanted for herself he believed were not meant for her. If you asked him – and she had – why he always wanted to make her into something that she wasn't, he would say he was trying to do what was best for her. That was probably true in his mind, but he and James were suffocating her spirit to the point that she had to break free.

Which is what brought her here today, to Will, an extraordinary, sexy, sweet, funny, strong, heroic, selfless man. Will was a rarity, she knew, not just within her realm of experience but in the world at large. He was a good man, one with integrity, who protected those he cared for without requiring anything in return. But perhaps what touched her most about him was how truly understanding and accepting he was. He listened to her – reallylistened – without judgment, without criticism or disapproval, and he accepted her just exactly how she was, _for who_ she really was. She could rely on him. She trusted him. She lo – .

She sat up in bed, putting a head over her now racing heart……_Did she_?

She wanted to be with Will, near him, around him. She felt good when she was with him, happy. Even just now, their simple phone conversation had been the highlight of the past forty-eight hours. And the fantasies…..she couldn't stop the fantasies, though she'd tried. Some were carnal, like the one she'd slipped into tonight of Will ravishing her in this very bed. But others were simpler, quaint even – the two of them together, but as more than friends, in a serious committed relationship; the two of them sharing his cabana, since it was the one with the oceanfront view; sometime down the line, him giving her a diamond ring, only this one she wouldn't toss aside; it would never leave her left hand.

In addition to the fantasies, both when he was with and when he wasn't, was the fact that on a simple weekend business trip she missed him so much she was going nearly insane. The suffering had become both emotional and physical. She wanted, needed Will, with her all the time. Needed him holding her, touching her. Needed to talk with him, to laugh with him. It seemed she wanted and needed him with her on a daily basis to think, to feel, to breathe.

There was no denying it anymore. She was in love with Will. She had never been in love before, but still she knew it. She'd felt it coming on for some time, but was afraid to admit it. But her heart knew what it wanted, what it had found. She was in love with him, deeply, insanely, irrevocably in love.

The question was, what on earth was she going to do about it?

* * *

AN: I decided to wait on my new oneshot and focus solely on **Holiday** this week. I promise I will release it next though, which means you may not have to wait all that much longer for the next update of **Holiday**, but the chapter will be considerably shorter. That made the most sense to me both schedule wise and in terms of the story since the next chapter of **Holiday** would be lessoned anyway as it's really a sort of a bridge between Will's return to the island and a major plot point that's about to go down. So to recap: the canon oneshot is still to come, the next chapter of **Holiday** should be hopefully not too late but not nearly as long as the last few have been.


	13. Making A Date

~

* * *

I've kept my heart under control

But all this time has taken its toll

I tried to but I can't hold back what's deep in my soul

So, darling, please forgive me

I want you and you'll just have to know

- W. Anderson

* * *

Barbossa sat in his office late Monday morning, looking across his desk at the two imbeciles sent to negotiate with him. "I've gotta say, it doesn't exactly reflect well on how seriously you're taking this, you showing up days late."

Mullroy and Murtogg exchanged a look. "We got lost," Murtogg offered dumbly.

They both had the good sense to omit the fact that, after getting lost, Gillette temporarily suspended them from the assignment, thinking he could get there just as quickly now himself and was a better choice than these two bubbling idiots to handle the situation anyway, but a bout of bad weather back home kept him grounded, forcing him to reluctantly return the delicate situation to Murtogg and Mullroy's hands.

Barbossa swallowed the urge to point out the island wasn't all that big, and only a buffoon could get lost in it for days. He still needed something from them – or rather from the one they represented. "Alright then, gents, let's get down to business," he said, sliding an envelope across the desk.

Murtogg merely stared at it in fascination, but Mullroy picked up the envelope and opened it, withdrawing Elizabeth's mug shot and several thick papers beneath.

"It's the princess alright," Murtogg said obtusely.

"She was arrested?" Mullroy asked, getting down to the point that would have his superiors in an uproar.

Barbossa nodded. "Reckless driving, resisting arrest – and those are just the high points."

Mullroy sifted through the paperwork, his eyes widening and his head bobbing up after reading a particularly interesting sentence. "It says here the princess is lately…." He stopped, seeming to choke on the word. "….lately…._married_, to one William Turner."

"A local, originally from England but he lives here now," Barbossa explained. "He's tight with Jack Sparrow. Not at all good company to keep," he said beneath his breath, as if to lesson the scandal of it. "The police report has them as newlyweds, but word going round town is that they're merely shacking up. Either way, I'm sure you wouldn't want it getting out in the press."

"No, sir," Murtogg replied, horrified.

The look on Barbossa's face was smug. "That's what I thought."

"You implicated a Jack Sparrow," Mullroy spoke up.

"Mentioned him is more what he did," Murtogg argued, but shut up when Mullroy glowered at him menacingly.

"Who is this Jack Sparrow?"

_Who is he_, Barbossa thought, _only the bane of my existence_. "He owns a resort across town. He's the one helping Turner keep her hidden, something that's worked out to your advantage thus far since her identity has been kept secret. No one outside of the island knows where your precious princess is, or what she's been up to – _yet_."

As thick as they tended to be, even Mullroy and Murtogg realized what was going down; after fifteen years in law enforcement and another five in service to the crown, they knew a bribe when they saw one.

"What is it that you want, Mr. Barbossa?"

"Captain," he corrected, smirking at the irony of it. He and Sparrow had a few things in common after all, too many, which is why there was only room for one of them on the island. "Sparrow once stole something that belonged to me, just as he's now taken what should belong to your country. He's the brains behind this operation, not Turner. He's the one we go after. You see to it that I get back what's rightfully mine – _and_ Sparrow pays – and no one ever needs to know about the princess's Caribbean liaison, what naughty little things she likes to do after hours….and with whom."

Murtogg and Mullroy both looked ashen and were clearly far out of their league, but it was Mullroy who finally spoke up. "All of those matters will have to be worked out with our direct superior, Gillette, but I think you'll find the king will see to it that anyone what brings harm to his daughter will get a just reward."

"Well then, boys, get him on the phone."

* * *

Elizabeth stood at the airport, absently watching the unloading of the latest plane, bringing tourists and locals alike to the small island paradise. Turning away from the scene, she began pacing before the large glass windows.

Though she was blissfully unaware of the meeting several hours earlier in which men – both known to her and not – were deciding her fate, she was still wound so tight she was about to explode from nervous energy.

"Elizabeth," Anna sighed, "will you relax? Will's flight isn't scheduled to come in till well after dark. You have hours and hours to get all anxious and giggly in anticipation before he arrives."

Elizabeth shot her a look. "I am not anxious, and certainly not giggly."

But at least the first part of that statement was a bald-faced lie. She was so fidgety and flustered she was ready to jump out of her skin. But she couldn't help it. She knew she loved Will now, knew it as sure as the air that she breathed. So how would that change things when she was with him again, now knowing that she was desperately, madly in love with him and no longer even attempting to fight it? How would it be to look at him, to melt into those gorgeous eyes of his? Would she be able to keep her desire hidden, or would her feelings be written all over her face?

And she still hadn't decided what to do about Will. A myriad of problems abounded in trying to seek a relationship with him, not the least of all was the man himself. Her country, her father; that she could deal with, though she knew it would be a shock and disappointment to them if she stayed with Will, choosing to snub James, society, and the crown itself. It was a heavy burden to put upon her slim shoulders and one that would be far from easy to bear, but she'd been fighting the battle of convention and responsibility versus what the heart wants for years. Now after experiencing freedom, living here on her own and finally making her own decisions, she'd realized that it was long past time for her to start living for herself – no matter what anyone else thought about it.

As difficult as it would be, comparatively, dealing with the remains of her world would be easy next to breaking through Will's own standoffishness and fear of relationships and commitment. She had been so terrified she'd scared him off, throwing herself at him under the haze of alcohol, but after their kiss they'd somehow managed to strike a fragile balance between friendship and attraction. She realized how important it was for Will to make the first move, for him to go into this thing with her willingly and openly. And that last night on the beach, _he_ had almost kissed _her_; he would have if they hadn't been interrupted by the sudden shower. But afterwards he'd closed off again. It seemed he was fighting a battle between physically wanting her and stopping himself from taking things any further, as he obviously had no plans of seeking a serious relationship with her and lived in terror of hurting anyone the way his father had. She didn't want to be a 'rules girl'. She didn't want to lose him in her life, but she wanted so much more than friendship. Getting there was going to be the true struggle.

"Just remember what I told you," Anna said, breaking into her thoughts. "Light some candles, put on the teddy and those do-me heels of yours, and you're good to go."

Elizabeth blushed crimson.

"Oh my god. I was only kidding, but you _are_ planning on shagging him tonight, aren't you?" Anna squealed.

"Shh, keep your voice down," Elizabeth admonished. "I'm not doing any such thing."

She honestly didn't know what had been going through her mind exactly. She certainly hadn't knowingly intended to take Will to bed tonight. Yet she _had_ spent the early morning hours sorting through her skimpy lingerie, trying various pieces on and setting aside the ones she thought looked best on her.

"I just….We haven't seen each other in days. I just think, once he's home, it's important to set the right tone."

"And that particular note goes something like, '_Take me now, Will'_ "?

"No, it…." _Oh_! Maybe it did. Maybe that had been her subconscious plan the entire time…..

Elizabeth slumped down into a chair and buried her face in her hands.

"Lizzy, it's alright," Anna said, putting a comforting hand to her back. "We've all been there. We all get those urges."

Actually, for her, these intense yearnings were rather new, but that was beside the point. The 'urges' weren't the problem; the fact that she was in love with Will was.

"And," Anna went out, oblivious to her inner turmoil, "Will's a great one to scratch that itch for you." Keeping Elizabeth's earlier chastisement in mind, she lowered her voice, adding, "I hear he can make you c – "

"No one's scratching anything," Elizabeth interrupted in a panic. She didn't want to hear about how great Will was in bed. Although she had no frame of reference, she could already imagine it more than well enough.

Elizabeth got back up to her feet and, seeing the tortured expression on her friend's face, Anna followed. "What is it, Elizabeth? This has got to be about more than just sex…..Is it that other guy, the one you're supposed to marry?"

"No, it's – It's not that. It's….You know how Will is with women. And I understand it, maybe more than anyone, I do. I don't blame him. But I don't want to _be_ one of those women."

"And you never could be," Anna softly maintained. "Give Will a chance. Maybe he won't frighten away as easily as you believe. Everything that's happened with you two is so different from how he's been with other women. He – "

"Elizabeth," a low, masculine voice interrupted.

Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. She had no idea how it could be, but it was no fantasy this time. She'd know anywhere who that voice belonged to. She spun around and her breath caught in her throat. She'd been nearly beside herself with excitement at the thought of having him back again, but it paled in comparison to the real thing. "_Will_…." she said, her tone one of delight.

She watched him walk the rest of the way across the lobby to her. With that sexy stride of his, his dark hair styled messy as always, and those chocolate eyes drawing her in like twin beams of magnetic sex appeal, he looked nothing short of yummy.

"How?" she asked, once he stopped before her. "How are you here?"

A smile played across his lips at her astonishment, and she knew she was doomed.

Will paused for just a moment to soak up the sight of her before answering. "The company got me a business class ticket. I traded it in for an earlier flight in coach." By way of explanation, he told her, "You said you missed me."

"I did."

"I missed you too. And suddenly luxury didn't seem nearly as important as getting back as soon as possible." He smiled again, a smile of genuine happiness, as he took her in. "But I didn't expect to see you here. My flight wasn't due for hours."

She glanced at the ground a minute, then back at him, finally sheepishly admitting, "I was waiting."

It took a second for her words to click in his mind: Elizabeth had intended to wait all those hours in the uncomfortable airport just to be sure she was on time. The realization that she had been anxious to see him both lightened and touched his heart.

"Come here," Will said gruffly, pulling her into a close hug, one hand against her lower back, the other slipping beneath her ponytail to cup the back of her head. After the hell he'd been through in the past two days, holding her now he felt comforted and whole, as if he'd finally come back home.

Warmth spread through Elizabeth at being near him again. Enclosed in his embrace she felt safe and cared for….and incredibly turned on, a fact that was reiterated by the tingle that went through her as a hot waft of his breath fell against the back of her neck.

It was all Will could do to pull himself away from her but he somehow managed the feat. But drawing back to take in her face proved just as dangerous. She was looking at him as if she wanted to eat him up, and he didn't know how much more of it he could take. Dealing with Elizabeth now was going to be trickier than ever as he was fighting two simultaneous urges – neither of which he could yet act on – one to take her back in his arms and kiss her senseless and another to drop to his knees and confess his undying love.

Elizabeth must have realized her error, and quickly schooled her expression into more neutral territory, but it was no use. Something nebulous and indefinable had changed between them and, though it was difficult to put a finger on, it was clear there was no going back.

"You look nice," he told her, his eyes skimming over her floral blouse and blessedly fitted capris. "Very pretty."

She flushed with pleasure. "Thank you. It's, ah, it's one of the new….it's something I got this weekend, shopping. And you…" She looked at him and felt her skin heating. "…you do too – look nice, that is." Elizabeth cursed herself. She was babbling and she knew it. She might as well shout out to the whole airport that she was hopelessly mad about him.

"What? This old thing?" he teased, looking down at his tee shirt and jeans. "I'm just glad to see visible proof that you and Anna actually did go on a shopping expedition and not a man hunting one."

Wearing a look of mock outrage, she put her hands to his chest, shoving him playfully, and he laughed, loving the feel of her hands on his body, even in jest.

Elizabeth loved to hear Will laugh. He really did have a terrific laugh. In fact, everything about him was so effortlessly sexy, including his scent that hung in the air between them, still clinging to her clothes from when he'd briefly held her, driving her slowly out of her mind.

"I told you we were only shopping," she said coyly.

He chuckled again. "Yes, you did," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Though the affectionate endearment likely meant nothing to him, it started off butterflies in her stomach. His expressive eyes, so deep and compelling, stared steadily into hers and she felt awareness spread from her core. She nibbled absently on her lower lip, needing some sort of outlet for all the sexual energy he'd set off within her.

As subtle as the gesture was, Will noticed it and his eyes crinkled. His assessing gaze swept over Elizabeth's face and he wondered for a split second if she wasn't feeling something for him after all.

Reaching up, he hooked a fallen wisp of hair behind her ear, and she felt tiny sparks where his fingers brushed her cheek. _What that touch couldn't do in other places_, she mused.

Electricity hung in the air between them, and it was clear something was coming to a head. An invisible line had been crossed, and it was too late now; there was no going back. It was time to either reach for something more or pull back entirely. They couldn't go on any longer pretending to be just friends.

And Will, for one, didn't want to be only Elizabeth's friend. From the very beginning, deep down, he'd known that. What he wanted was for her to give him a chance, just one little opening into her heart, only the time and opportunity to let her see the merit of choosing him.

Yet it was so impossible to think she'd want him. If he knew what was good for him he'd just give up and leave it alone. But he couldn't let her go, not without at least trying. Granted, he was light-years away from being a duke and could never give her the sort of life she'd have with Norrington, but he could give her other things: freedom, happiness, acceptance, unconditional love. He'd give her _anything_, anything she wanted, if she would only stay with him, _be_ with him. But he would blow it all at the start if he came on too strong, too fast. He had to cool down, back away from the physical – and no sex, even if she would consent to it which was a long shot at best. No matter how much he wanted her, sex would ruin everything. Considering his past, it would be so easy for her to think this was all about sex and nothing more, and he couldn't let her believe that. He would just have to control himself, until and unless they got to a point where she saw and trusted that he wanted so much more from her. He wanted everything: the house, the yard – in their case, a beach – and laughing babies to play within it, the whole nine yards.

But slow and steady, carefully, that would be his approach…..Perhaps he could take her out again. Their night at Calypso had been incredible. It had loosened her up, and she was open, and laughing, and relaxed, and happy with him. _And_ that had been the night when she kissed him – even if she did pretend not to remember it now. Another night like that was exactly what they need, a chance for him to flirt and romance her, to awaken her to the possibilities of the two of them together before she realized what was happening and shut it down.

When, deep in thought, Will said nothing more, Elizabeth attempted to fill the silence. "So….everything was left well with your clients?"

"Yes," he smiled, clearly proud and pleased with his business developments. "The build's been officially green lighted. Everything goes forward as planned."

"Remember, you promised to let me help," Elizabeth said. Cautiously probing, she leadingly attached, "That is….if you still want me."

Will looked at her searchingly again, and her gaze skittered away. His eyes softened, and he caught her hand. "You know I want you." His words had a double meaning, but her face gave no clues as to whether she'd understood him.

But she did softly sigh. Her hand was in his and it felt so good she was all aquiver with the pleasure of it. _This_ was all she wanted, to be touched by him, held by him, for them to belong to each other. And she knew in that moment what she was going to do. She had tried to suppress it, tried to deny it, but she wanted him; she _loved_ him. And even if such female emotions scared him witless, he was just going to have to deal with it. Yet she was no fool. She knew she couldn't let on right away how emotionally invested she was. She wouldn't start out with, 'I love you more than life', but work up to that. She'd let him know she was interested, coax him into involvement, allow the physical and slowly open him up to the emotional.

Watching her closely, Will had no idea what she was thinking, but the way she was gazing at him – with such a long, intent look – left him captivated and his lips were already putting his plan into motion before his mind had a chance to argue.

"I was thinking we should go out tonight and celebrate," he told her.

And so it had begun, his strategy to win her. He would focus on the emotional, show her what she meant to him – but not all at once. No, he'd slowly, subtly let his intentions and love be known, starting tonight.

Elizabeth's lips curved into a smile at his suggestion. It seemed he'd read her mind yet again. "That sounds fantastic."

"Wonderful. Ah…let's see…how about the Empress. You said you wanted to go. The music's awesome and the atmosphere is incredible. I think you'll love it."

"The Empress it is."

It was his turn to smile at her agreement and her eyes went unconsciously to his mouth.

"We should go to dinner first. I could give you some time to get ready. I'd certainly like to shower and change." He glanced down at his traveling clothes, chagrined. "Then I'll come by your cabana."

It took far more effort than it should have for Elizabeth to force her eyes up to meet his, but the chemistry between them was unequivocal. Her nerves still continued to pulse where their palms were connected, the charge running up her wrist to pool within her chest.

_But what of Will's plan? Focus on Will's plan_, she commanded herself. She hadn't been to many discos in her lifetime, and she suspected the few she had been to were of the decidedly sedate variety. And thinking of Will, ready to go out on the town, all dressed up and smelling like heaven, was enough to make her weak in the knees. No, she needed to be already in place and comfortable if she had any hope of doing this successfully.

"Actually, I made dinner plans with Anna." When disappointment darkened his features, she quickly added, "Before I knew you were getting in early."

Anna had been standing off to the side at the windows through most of their conversation, meaning to give them some privacy, but when she heard her name, she moved in closer.

"Are my ears burning? I thought I heard someone mention me," she said.

"I was just telling Will how we'd already made dinner plans," Elizabeth told her meaningfully.

Of course they'd made no such plans, but Anna understood where she was going with this. Still, she looked at Elizabeth as if she were ten shades of stupid. Avoiding Will would do nothing to solve her problem. "Uh, yeah."

Anna looked down pointedly at Elizabeth's hand, still joined with Will's, to give her the message that what they should be doing was joining some other body parts too, but Elizabeth glared at her discouragingly. Sighing, Anna, nevertheless, backed her up. "Yes, we do have plans. Can't be broken."

Elizabeth gave Anna a look that clearly begged her to now get lost which, with a roll of her eyes, she did.

"But I'd love to meet you at the Empress afterwards, Will," Elizabeth told him with open eagerness.

This time, it was Will who flushed, a goofy smile lighting up his face. "_Great_."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. All of her life she'd been a strong, independent creature, afraid of nothing. But she'd never once tried to seduce a man, especially one who meant so much to her, whose acceptance or rejection could bring elation or humiliation and crushing sorrow. She'd need every ounce of courage to go through with this….but if it worked the end result would be so worth it.

"Say nine-thirty then?" she asked.

"It's a date."

* * *

AN: Finally, an update! It's still full speed ahead, I promise. There's very little I'd love more than to write 24/7. Unfortunately life just keeps getting in the way. ; )

But I've got to say, I'm really excited about these next upcoming chapters. It's actually the first part of this story I started writing, way back when I was just beginning **The Healing Touch**. The rest of **Holiday** sort of fell into place and grew outward from this one scene – which, needless to say, I _love_. (Well, actually this 'one scene' will probably end up stretching across at least two, maybe three chapters). I won't give too much away….except to say that hijinks are about to ensue.


	14. Hunger

~

* * *

There's a hungry yearning burning inside of me

And its torment won't be through till you let me spend my life making love to you

- C. Porter

* * *

Elizabeth stood before the mirror in her bedroom putting the finishing touches to her makeup, perfecting that smoky-eyed look she hoped would add to her appeal, stopping Will in his tracks. And just in case the sexy bedroom eyes weren't enough to do the trick, her body was encased in the daring halter dress she'd bought over the weekend that she'd once felt uncertain she had the nerve to wear in public. But Anna, who currently sat on her bad, alternately helping her get ready and issuing encouraging pep talks, had convinced her to put it on, offering the assurance that the dress alone would cinch the deal, thoroughly claiming Will's heart – or at the very least his baser parts.

So she'd decided to do this. Not that it was much of a choice at this point. The entire time she'd been with Will earlier that day it felt like they were bottling a dangerous substance; if someone didn't release the pressure, sooner or later it was bound to explode. All the same, Elizabeth knew she was taking a chance, a big one. Her actions were likely to alienate Will and could very well spell the end of their friendship. Chances were he would either reject her outright, which would be painful and awkward for them both, or either tonight or some night soon, he would take her to bed and – though in as gentle a way as possible – would be done with her afterwards. But still the small, however unlikely, third possibility remained that he would open himself to her, accept her affections, explore the possibility of a relationship, and in time fall in love with her too…..before or after he took her to bed; at this point it really didn't matter to her. If he wanted in her bed before he reached that place, she would let him in. _She_ certainly wanted him there. And all the while she would show him how good intimacy could be, that love could be safe and warm and happy for them both.

This was a risk, but it was more than worth the gamble. So she would come on to Will. She would confess her feelings – well, at least her amorous one. But first she needed to get prepared. Bending to slip them on, Elizabeth finished off her provocative ensemble with the shoes Anna had called her 'do-me heels'. Altogether, her outfit appeared that it would meet its mark, leaving Will off-balance and appealing to the lust she'd seen now and again in his eyes when he looked at her.

Taking a deep breath, she went over her plan in her mind for the umpteenth time. First, she would make her physical desire for Will known and see how he responded. If he reacted favorably then, over time, she could gradually confess the rest of her feelings...But could she even get past the 'first'?

Turning from the mirror, she miserably blurted to Anna, "I don't know if I can go through with this."

"Of course you can."

"But what if Will doesn't feel the same way that I do? What if this is completely unwelcome on his part?" Elizabeth asked, slumping down to sit on the bed beside her.

The simple movement of sitting shifted Elizabeth's dress several inches higher up her thigh, and Anna couldn't help but smile. Smoke was likely to pour from Will's ears at the very sight of her friend. "Elizabeth, he's hot for you, without question."

Thinking of that last night on the beach in her short shorts, and before that when they'd gone swimming, Elizabeth had to admit – there was very little denying – that Will seemed to want her.

"And you're hot for him too," Anna continued. "So what could go wrong?"

Elizabeth, unfortunately, could think of many things. Granted, if Will _did_ let his moral standards slip, he might just act on his desire for her – especially when she was giving all sorts of provocation – but that didn't mean it went any deeper than that. And when all was said and done he might easily fall back on his rules.

She ran a nervous hand over the loose waves of her long hair. "I can't be just one night for him….You don't understand the signi – " She broke off before saying anything more. Her virginity was something of a sore spot for her. Her state of innocence hadn't exactly been willing….then again it hadn't exactly been unwilling. Still she felt like a bit of a relic and, as a result, didn't broadcast the truth of her inexperience. Very few people – least of all Anna – would understand why at her age she had never been with a man; it was hard for anyone outside her situation to grasp. She had been waiting, and now that she'd finally found the man she longed, body and soul, to give herself to she couldn't image doing it lightly….and having it all be over with, once and for all, bright and early the next morning. "I just _can't_."

Anna took Elizabeth's hand in hers. She'd never been much for mushy stuff, having led a hard life, one where tragically early on self-reliance took precedence over emotion, a state that had only solidified during her five year on again-off again relationship with Jack. But she could see her friend was hurting and forced herself to make that emotional connection, difficult as it was. "Look, Will wants to take you to bed. I won't pretend otherwise. But it's more than just that. He….he _stares_ at you. He stares like a man with his heart in his eyes. It cracks Jack up. We've never seen him this way. He's hung-up on you, Elizabeth. I'm sure of it."

"Really?"

"Yes. _Really_. But, Will being who he is, he's going to need a little push."

"Right," she agreed, biting her lip.

"You can do this."

Elizabeth nodded.

"You _can_. I wish I could go with you for support, but they need me at the _Dauntless_. Ordinarily I'd just blow it off, but people didn't show up tonight and they're horribly understaffed."

"I know. It's okay. I'll be alright. Besides I think, knowing what I'm about, you being there would just make me more nervous."

Anna gave her a supportive smile. "He's already broken every rule for you. What's one more?" She lightly squeezed her hand. "Good luck…..Just give me all the juicy details in the morning," she said with a wink.

* * *

Walking into the Empress, Elizabeth was nothing short of dumbstruck. Will had described the nightclub to her as a cross between a basic underwater theme and the interior of a boat, with a dash of eccentricity thrown in because after all Jack had been in charge of its decoration. While she found his depiction accurate, his words didn't quite do it justice. But then, after seeing it herself, she could think of no phrases adequate enough _to_ describe it.

The entrance to the club deposited guests onto an upper level where seating was available, but the main action was clearly on the lower floor. There was no overhead lighting in the room, just soft blue lights placed strategically about the club, giving it an overall hue of pitch black mixed with shimmering blue, adding to the underwater ambiance. Perhaps the most immediately eye-catching features were the three massive globes hanging from the ceiling, one over the tables adjacent to the bar and the other two directly over the dance floor. Orange and white furls, feathers, and tentacle-like arms sprang from their tops in wild flimsy curls, giving them the overall appearance of sea anemone, while the orbs at their centers sparkled and reflected the light like old-fashioned disco balls, all the while emanating a twinkling blue glow.

There was so much to take it, Elizabeth was glad she'd decided to come early. There was no way she would have been able to concentrate on the task at hand with so many fascinating sights to behold. Reaching out to grip the handrail, but finding there was none, she descended the silver staircase that led to the main floor beneath.

Considering the stairway she walked down, Elizabeth wryly mused that it was obvious Jack had his hand in its design. The layout of the stairs was open, leaving a person hovering out into the room with the crowd free to walk on all sides and beneath the slit staircase, making it exceptionally easy for a man at the right place at the right time to look up a woman's skirt. With that thought in mind, she hurriedly stepped off the final stair to the safety beneath.

To her right was the line of tables by the bar, a long row of connected booths offering a demarcation point between the sitting and the dancing areas. And the booth, a sort of longish continual banquette, offered the perfect seating for couples who wanted to cozy up to one another while enjoying music, drinks, and refreshments – though she noticed there was the convenience of individual chairs on the opposite side of the tables should anyone be less inclined to spoon and grope in public. But, should they be apt to do even more, there were still further secluded tables set back far against the wall beneath the concealing darkness that the overhang of the upper level provided. No doubt, she thought cynically, Jack had also included plenty of private rooms to indulge those seeking intimacies that, for a price, wouldn't have to wait until guests had returned to their hotel rooms.

Shaking her head at the picture that made, her eyes further scanned the nightclub. Directly across from the main tables was the bar, which in and of itself was a sight to behold. The back of the bar, just beyond the crowded rows of various liquor bottles, was backlit in a dazzling crystalline blue provided by a massive, impressively stocked aquarium, complete with countless varieties of colorful tropical fish. And the actual bar itself seemed to be made up of aquarium-like panels, sporting cascading bubbling water that ran from top to bottom. Two of the three sides of the bar were open, leaving patrons from both the tables and the dance floor to walk up and make their requests. But the middle of the bar offered metal and leather stools for sitting – not surprisingly upholstered in a dark blue leather, the effect furthered by the blue light glowing from the sides of the bar.

And in the middle of it all, expressly designed to curve around the bar – probably with the intention of encouraging further imbibing – was the dance floor, already filled with undulating bodies, albeit swaying to a surprising choice in music.

Now that the immediate wonder at her surroundings began to ease, Elizabeth realized she couldn't continue to stand dumbly at the bottom of the steps. But where should she go to wait for Will? The bar wasn't private enough for such a revelation as she planned, but the removed, secluded tables were just a little too private. She wanted to show him she was interested and more than willing to take their relationship to a romantic level, but she was still a respectable woman. A gentle come-on quickly lost its subtlety when delivered in an atmosphere that all but screamed of debauchery, and she didn't mean for Will to think she was only after sex. It was _him_ that she needed. If sex came along with their relationship, she was ready – shockingly ready – to explore it. But above all it was Will, simply the chance to be with him, that she wanted.

All things considered, the tables across from the bar seemed the wisest choice. Slowly heading in that direction, her awareness began to shift from the nightclub itself to the patrons within….the male patrons whose interest she seemed to have piqued. Simply put, the men were blatantly ogling her, perusing her body from head to toe. Perhaps Anna had been right the first time around in suggesting that she save this sexy dress for a 'private show'. Elizabeth didn't want anyone but Will looking at her in such an intimate fashion – a thought that was striking in itself, considering that if she returned to her country and married James this would daily be the case.

With strangers' leering eyes upon her, she felt instantly uncomfortable and tugged on the hem of her dress. The motion only succeeded in pulling the neckline down to reveal even more scandalous proportions of cleavage, so she had no choice but to give up. Slipping instead into the 'cuddling booth', as she'd dubbed it in her mind, she thought that on the up side she must look rather good in the dress to attract so much attention, a realization that bolstered her confidence in openly pursing Will tonight. Even so, she decided a drink – nothing too strong, just a nice glass of white wine – would be just the thing to shore up her courage. The thought of confessing to Will all that she wished and imagined – and, more pointedly, the thought of his potential rejection afterwards – made her almost sick with nervousness.

A minute later, Jack himself delivered her drink. Giving her a thorough onceover, he let out a low whistle. "My, my. Our fair 'Lizabeth…." He lowered his voice. "…the sweet proper princess, dressed to kill. Tell me, what poor bastard are you hoping to snare tonight? Please say it's William you're hoping to drag to bed. I don't think the poor boy could handle watching you snag someone else for the deed."

"Such refinement, as always," she replied, offering him a patently insincere smile before she sipped her drink. "But what makes you think I'm out to drag anyone to bed tonight, as you so tactfully put it?"

"That dress your wearing," he pointed, "has enough T&A on display to appeal to any male still breathing. And come to think of it, a short enough skirt to send any leg man to his knees – or, better yet, hope _you'll_ go to _yours_," he smirked.

"Ugh," she groaned in disgust. "You are such a pig."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a complement." He laughed, and she shook her head. Jack's was a hopeless case but she had to admit, even with all that he was, it was hard to completely dislike him. After all, he was Will's closest friend, almost like a brother, and though it had been at Will's urging, he _had_ agreed to take her in.

Jack's amusement softened and he asked in a more serious tone, "It _is_ Will you're meetin' tonight, isn't it?"

Elizabeth nodded, taking another drink. "It's Will."

He smiled. "Good. He's been waiting for this for a very long time…..He needs you."

She audibly scoffed. So it was right back to sex with him. She shouldn't be surprised. "Blue balls are not a real thing, Jack." She was well enough acquainted with the notion to consider herself an authority; they were James's favorite excuse.

Jack let out a loud guffaw. "Says you." He didn't tell her that she had completely mistaken his meaning. It amused him too much that, at least on this occasion, _she_ was the one with the dirty mind. "And such language. Perhaps you aren't so proper after all?"

"Maybe I'm not." She narrowed her eyes mockingly. "But _you'll_ never know."

"True….unless I hear it from dear William."

Her bravado completely deflated at that. "But….he wouldn't…. I mean, he doesn't – Surely, he doesn't _discuss_ his conquests with you."

Jack considered it for only a fraction of a second before answering truthfully. "No. No, he doesn't. Sadly, I'm left to imagine." Then, quickly weighing the wisdom of it, he decided to give her another rarely spoken kernel of truth. "Not that there _are_ all that many, conquests I mean. Will's a lot more selective than most people think."

Before she had time to respond, Jack continued, "But whatever you think, and whatever it is you plan on doing with him tonight, I hope you're ready, 'cause he's here," he said, nodding toward the stairway, "and no doubt looking for you."

Jack disappeared back behind the bar and she was left alone to watch Will climb down the stairs, looking like seduction personified. Like her, he was wearing all black from head to toe and, like her, his clothing fit snug in all the right places. Though the length of his hair was pulled back into a tie it wasn't done so severely, his hair left full and wavy about the top and sides of his head, freefalling tendrils curling just so about his ears – and how she longed to run her fingers through it and muss it even further. His black button-up hugged the contours of his sculpted chest perfectly, and the sleeves were left rolled up to the elbow, revealing muscled forearms. The only change she would make to his attire was the buttons. He'd left only one unfastened, at the collar. If she had her way the shirt would be undone to at least mid-chest. A shameless smile stretched across her lips at the thought.

If Elizabeth had any doubts at all about going through with this, her determination was completely cemented seeing Will all dressed up, looking warm and hard and positively sexy. He stirred her in a way no other man ever had, not just now but from the moment they'd met him. The attraction had only grown stronger, more intense and unstoppable, the longer she'd known him to the point that she'd now been having erotic dreams about Will for several nights straight. Whether or not they would ever become a reality, she supposed, depended at least partially on how brazen she was willing to be. But if tonight held even the slimmest possibility of ending in his arms, she'd risk whatever it took to get there. Abandoning her nearly full glass of wine, she began to cross the room toward where he stood near the edge of the dance floor.

Will, for his part, had yet to spot Elizabeth. It wasn't quite nine-thirty, and he knew it was very possible she hadn't arrived, so he let himself relax a moment. He was going to have to be 'on' the moment she got there, trying his hardest to pretend he didn't want her in every way possible, because loving her changed absolutely nothing. All odds and reason still dictated that she wouldn't possibly choose him. She was still way out of his league. It was impossible for them in too many ways to count….but still he wanted her. And if there was ever _any_ hope of having Elizabeth, he would have to take things slow and careful and easy with her. It was a tricky situation, to be sure, but he was nevertheless determined to enjoy tonight. He'd missed Elizabeth more than words could say and being with her tonight would be the closest thing to heaven, even if she would never be his.

Taking a deep breath, Will let the music wash over him and felt his tense muscles slowly loosen. He'd always liked jazz night at the Empress the best. Sure, it wasn't hip hop or techno. The music was old school, must of which people his age had never heard of, but it was slow, and earthy, and sexy. There was such an emotional charge behind it that in his opinion you could get much further on the dance floor with a rhythmic, seductive, blues number than you ever could with the loud repetitive throb of standard club mixes.

Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly heard Elizabeth's low, close whisper of, "Will", and felt her press against him from behind.

He started slightly, but it wasn't due to surprise. The way she said his name, so soft and sweet and feminine, sent a zing through him. When she continued to linger near, his eyes fell closed, and he nearly had to bite back the groan that the feel of her warm breath against his ear and the smell of her soft perfume instantly induced.

She placed her hands over his eyes and this time he was genuinely surprised at the game, but more than willing to play along. "Now call _me_ by name," she requested.

He would love to call out her name…..while making slow, satisfying love to her. _Steady_, he commanded himself. She had barely said two words to him and he was already raring to go.

"How long have you been here, _Elizabeth_?" he asked her, taking care to keep his voice even and free of the need he felt. "I guess I assumed if you got here first you'd have found us a table."

She frowned at that, pleased that he knew her voice but not at all caring for his straightforward approach to their meeting. If he wasn't taking the bait of her gentle flirtation, it seemed she would just have to amp up her enticement a bit. Elizabeth let her hands fall away from his eyes and sashayed around to face him.

Will took one look at her and felt his body heat in response, every part of him jumping to attention – including those that had best lie dormant for the time.

The dress was a halter style, with a wide V neck plunging down to kingdom come and a hem cut high enough that he was certain it would reveal a peek of underwear if she bent just so. And the dress hugged her body, highlighting all the points of interest to great effect.

His eyes roved over her slowly, taking their time, thoroughly enjoying the journey. His conclusion was that she might as well have been nude, the way the dress clung to her every curve like a second skin. And her legs…..so much of her long, luscious legs were on display. His gaze followed the line of them all the way down to her ankles and those stunningly sexy heels that made him want to strip her down to them and nothing else.

His head tilted to the side as he appreciatively took it all in. Another inch or two, either up or down, and she would be arrested again – this time for indecent exposure; the dress's neckline alone had all the earmarks of a major wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. But she looked good, damned good, positively edible.

Elizabeth smiled at his reaction. The outfit had been revealing to begin, and she'd watched him slowly undress her the rest of the way with his eyes. "Do you like my new dress?" she asked, spinning for his approval.

She turned around and he nearly swallowed his tongue. The dress was backless, dipping down to just above her bottom, leaving miles of soft bare skin just begging to be touched and caressed. She was an absolute fantasy come to life – granted, a naughty one, but all the better.….

Elizabeth spun back around, the paralyzing front view of the clingy dress tantalizing him all over again. Will gaped at her as her eyes studied his face, waiting for his reply, but he could think of no appropriate, G-rated response; all of his thoughts at the moment were strictly rated X.

With an arched brow, he finally blurted the first non-lewd comment that came to mind. "Won't you be cold?"

She stiffened, apparently finding his response displeasing, but too much blood had vacated his brain for him to figure out why. Either way, she said nothing to indicate annoyance, merely taking his hand and leading him off to a table.

Smiling alluringly, Elizabeth tried again. "I had a dream about you last night," she told him as they traversed the room.

"Oh?"

"A good dream….." He made no reply. "A _really _good dream," she added seductively.

Will glanced down at her searchingly, thinking surely he must have mistaken her meaning. There was no way she was hinting at having a sexual dream involving him. He was projecting his own secret lust into the conversation. "It was probably because I've been away," he answered rationally.

Elizabeth tamped down her frustration, trying another tactic. "I was thinking later we could go out on the pier, just like the night we met. Do you remember?"

"How could I forget?" he smiled. Then, to her first request, he replied, "Yes, of course we can if you like."

They reached the table and he pulled back the chair for her, meaning to politely help her into it, but she had intended the banquette for the both of them….So much for those plans. She slid into the chair – because, really, what else could she do? – and gave him another come-hither smile as he seated himself on the banquette across from her.

"Is it more rum for you tonight?" Will asked teasingly.

Elizabeth flushed with pleasure that finally he seemed to be flirting back. "No more alcohol tonight," she said coquettishly. "Drinking dulls the senses."

He blinked at her. "And you need yours to be sharp?"

She leaned in and whispered intimately, "I want all five senses to be acutely aware. I wouldn't want to miss a second of tonight."

Will regarded her in confusion. "Alright. No drinks. Can I….can I offer you something else instead?"

At last, Elizabeth gloried, they were getting somewhere.

Holding her gaze, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

Yes, they were definitely getting somewhere. She leaned further across the table toward him. "I'm absolutely _starving_."

"Well...the Empress serves finger foods, little hors d'oeuvres and such," he answered in bemusement, "but I don't think that will go very far in satisfying you."

She smiled knowingly, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. "No. Not at all." After momentarily playing with his fingers, she slid her hand up his wrist, finally curling it around his forearm. "Perhaps you have something better in mind to sate my appetite?"

"Ah…." It was so hard to think with her hand rubbing him that way. "We – we could get a bite afterwards?" Her eyes crinkled uncertainly, so he clarified, "The Dauntless will be closed, but I could always make you a sandwich."

Elizabeth abruptly let go of Will's arm. Evidently they'd been on two different wavelengths the entire time….or was this his way of delicately rejecting her? Worrying her lip, she decided to make one last attempt at open flirtation.

The music filtered to their table, an up-tempo jazz number. "Dance with me, Will," she softly cajoled. "Just like at Calypso."

His eyes widened at the thought. The vivid imagery his mind concocted of Elizabeth performing such a wriggling, writhing dance in the dress she had on tonight was nothing short of soft-core porn. "No," he said abruptly. "When she looked as if he'd slapped her, he softened his refusal with, "No, thank you. I don't think I'm much for dancing tonight."

Elizabeth huffed out a sigh. She'd put herself out on the line tonight and he'd blocked her at every avenue, flatly refusing her every invitation. Yet she still didn't know what to make of him because, when she looked up again, she caught him staring intently at her cleavage.

"I think maybe you like this dress after all," she cooed.

Flustered, Will seemed not to have heard her. "Are you _sure_ you won't be too cold?" he asked in a panic.

Her eyes flashed at his rebuff. She was throwing herself at him so hard she was surprised he didn't get whiplash and all he would do in return was be infuriatingly polite and proper with her, wholly rejecting every last one of her advances.

"Suddenly I'm not so sure," she said tartly. "It _has_ grown rather frigid."

Will was thrown at her rapid change in attitude, but gallantly offered, "I could take you back home."

The expression on her face went from annoyed to positively seething. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Turner. You don't have to worry at all."

Elizabeth started to get up from the table, but Will caught her wrist. She turned such hostile eyes on him that he wisely removed his hand. But he still had to ask her, "Where are you going?"

Her tone when she answered him was nothing short of glacial. "To find someone else who actually might want to dance with me."

The thought of her seeking out another man made Will feel instantly possessive. "But I thought you came here to talk to me. I've been gone so long; I thought you might want to – "

"Be a proper friend to you and listen all about your trip?" she snapped. "I'm sorry, but I had something else in mind for tonight. Obviously you didn't. So I'll just look for my amusement elsewhere."

He couldn't let her do that. Not only did her want her for himself, but he couldn't let her fall victim to the sort of men that frequented the Empress, preying on any hot young woman who would give them the time of day, the drunker the better. And with the way she looked tonight, she was definitely ripe for the picking.

"Elizabeth, this club is full of single men just looking for…." His voice trailed off while he searched for a gentle way to put it, finally settling on, "….well….to take advantage. You can't expect every encounter with a strange man to end as innocently as ours did. Some men will want – will _expect_ – more from you than friendship. Not every man will treat you as properly as I have."

She shot him the sort of pissy look women had perfected by the age of three, but on her it was particularly enchanting. "I certainly hope not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Elizabeth ignored him. "And on second thought, I think a drink _is_ in order after all. In fact, maybe two or three."

She pushed past him, sauntering to the bar and ordering a piña colada.

Standing at the bar, her back to Will, Elizabeth's anger melted away to reveal the hurt and humiliation beneath. He didn't want her. She'd all but offered herself to him on a silver platter and he'd turned her down flat. Maybe it was her fault, she pondered as her cocktail was delivered and she took a long, numbing drink. Maybe she was just inept at seduction. Perhaps her naïveté showed through, amusing Will and eventually prompting him to want to take her back home and tuck her away safe and sound – just like her father. She'd long held a secret embarrassment about her lingeringly virginity. Not that she went around broadcasting her sexual status; what she did or didn't do in private was no one's business but her own. Still she couldn't help but wonder if her inexperience with men was to blame here.

She downed several more gulps of her drink, wallowing in her misery and rejection and wondering how it had all gone so badly. Maybe her methods didn't appeal to Will? Possibly he found them clumsy? Whatever the reason, apparently she didn't tempt him in the least. Well she'd show him, she decided, swallowing a large fortifying mouthful of the rum. She knew how to be enticing, how to seduce a man. If he didn't want her, there were plenty of other men there tonight who might. Grabbing her now half-empty glass, she turned from the bar to go find herself some.

Will still sat at the table stunned, struggling to comprehend where his encounter with Elizabeth had gone so wrong. After she walked away in a huff, he'd watch as she drank far too much far too fast for a woman unaccustomed to drinking at all. Then she'd marched off, drink in hand, and currently stood near the edge of the dance floor, surveying the room with those killer eyes of hers.

What should he do? Did he dare approach her? She was obviously pissed as all hell at him – for what, he didn't know. Even so, as he'd tried to warn her, it wasn't safe for her to wander around the club without at least a girlfriend by her side as a precautionary measure. Elizabeth simply didn't realize the effect she had upon men – even wearing layers, which she certainly wasn't tonight – and he'd be damned if he'd just passively sit about and let all the men in the Empress ogle her with clearly lewd intent. Looking around, he discovered they already were.

Jack, who'd witnessed the entire scene from behind the bar, came walking up to stand beside Will's table. Will was about to say that now wasn't a good time, when Jack beat him to it, incredulously asking, "Have you lost your mind?"

"Why?" Will responded, dumbfounded. Why was everyone attacking him tonight?

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it."

"What are you talking about?"

Jack sighed long-sufferingly, continuing as if he were speaking to a simpleton. "I'm talking about Elizabeth. What just went down here – or didn't, as the case may be."

"Yeah. What _was_ that?" Will asked, still baffled as to what he'd done to offend her.

Jack actually laughed, so blown away was he that Will truly hadn't realized what was happening. "She was coming on to you."

"What?" Will stared at him, completely flabbergasted. "No."

"She was coming on to you _hard_," Jack continued, overriding the other man's argument. "And I'm pretty sure in her eyes you've just turned her down cold."

"Turned her down?" Will repeated, aghast. "I've been doing everything I can to – " He stopped short of admitting _he'd_ been the one doing his best to gently hit on her from the day they'd met. His mind reeled at the suggestion that she'd been doing the same thing. Jack must be mistaken. If Elizabeth wanted to pursue something with him, he'd given her plenty of opportunity. "No, Jack. You're wrong."

"Suit yourself, mate. But I know a come-on when I see one," Jack said, going back to help tend the bar.

With the distraction of Jack removed, Will tried to locate Elizabeth, finding her on the dance floor side of the bar, rocking slightly to the music. She certainly was beautiful, inside and out. But it was the 'out' that was on display tonight. He eyed her from across the room and felt his blood heat. How he wanted to take her up on that offer of dancing. It would be nothing short of pure ecstasy to have the gentle curves of her body pressed up against him….but he couldn't. She was angry at him and despite Jack's incorrect assertion not at all offering the things he wanted – her soul _or_ her body.

Still, he was utterly engrossed with her: the tip of her chin as she took another drink, the tempting way she tossed her soft honey-blonde waves over her shoulder, and the proud, determined, still-irate set of her spine. He was completely enthralled…..until his saw a tall, good looking man approach her and, after presumably receiving a favorable answer, lead her out onto the floor.

Watching her dance with another man quickly topped Will's list of most torturous things to endure. But the pair paid him no mind, too busy enjoying themselves – and they certainly had the prefect atmosphere for it. Jazz night at the Empress was something to experience. Though the music was not as familiar to everyone, it had a contagious retro appeal that quickly caught on with the locals and tourists alike. There was a live band, complete with several vocalists. The music always started out loud and fast, but as the night wore on it grew slow and sexy for lovers. Mercifully they hadn't yet reached that point, and the music was still thankfully up-tempo. Nevertheless, Will watched protectively from afar as she danced with the stranger, feeling jealousy burn an unpleasant course through him.

When the song ended, Elizabeth returned to the bar alone, but her one assent had opened up the flood gates. Soon all manner of men were hitting on her and she was dancing the night away – with one of them or all by herself – all to an alluring variation on the dance she'd learned at Calypso.

Will sat miserably in his chair, watching Elizabeth all the while and wondering how the evening had turned into such a disaster and how she'd ended up in the arms of every man but him.

Elizabeth, for her part, was clueless as to the effect she was having on Will – either of jealousy or lust. She had long since finished her piña colada, now having moved on to a daiquiri. Sipping from the sweet drink, the world gradually seemed alright again. Despite her earlier nerves, her ill-fated seduction attempt, and Will's cold rejection, she felt strangely free as she wiggled and gyrated, needing no dance partner at all. She was going to have fun, do exactly as she wanted, whatever felt good – all night long. She felt completely uninhibited as she took the drink with her out onto the edge of the dance floor, undulating to a rhythm all her own.

And Will still sat at his table, his eyes glued to her. It was clear that she was getting totally smashed, and every protective bone in his body was on high alert. Yet, at the same time, he was incredibly enticed by her overtly sexual dancing and body language. He wanted her so much it was a good thing she _was_ peeved at him. Otherwise he would be sorely tempted to do a great many things he shouldn't. Still, he couldn't help being held spellbound by the movements of her body in that painted-on dress; it was like he was watching her naked.

Jack stopped by then to deliver a beer to Will. Pausing as he looked at his friend's burning eyes, he followed the direction of their gaze to a writhing Elizabeth, letting loose on the dance floor. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully.

Jack set the beer down and the movement caught Will's eye. "Thanks," he muttered, looking away from Elizabeth in an attempt to clear his head.

What his mate had failed to notice, but Jack hadn't, was Elizabeth's occasional quick glances in his direction. She obviously wanted the same thing as William. Unfortunately neither one knew how to get there.

Will took a long pull from the bottle, then went back to eyeing Elizabeth like he was a starving lion and she a wounded gazelle.

Jack saw it all and, in his usually blunt fashion, remarked, "I think whot's needed here is for you to boff her."

Will choked on his beer. "_What_?"

"…..Yes, that's want you both need. You've practically been begging for it from day one."

"Jack, I'm not going to 'boff' her." Yet, as he said the word, his eyes drifted back to her wiggling body and burned anew at his sudden all too vivid imaginings of doing just that. "Aren't you needed elsewhere?" Will asked, still not taking his eyes off Elizabeth.

"Yeah," Jack answered. "But so are you, and that doesn't stop you from sittin' idly by."

Will scowled as Jack went back to business, his eyes making a quick sweep of the club before returning to Elizabeth. It was getting later, the music was turning slower, and people were pairing off in twos like Noah's ark. The few men left who hadn't already hooked up were blatantly eyeing Elizabeth, not that he could blame them. With the way she was dressed and the way she was moving, he was going to have to beat them off with a stick.

Though he hated to admit it, Jack was right. Mad at him or not, Will was through sitting there and idly watching as Elizabeth recklessly put herself in danger. He stood up and began walking to her side, telling himself all the while that it was the chivalrous, responsible, _only_ choice left to him and had nothing at all to do with jealousy….or desire.

Finding her still cavorting on the dance floor, bouncing in all the right places, he reached out a hand and cautiously touched her arm, being careful to keep all other portions of his body far from her wriggling one. "Elizabeth."

She paused in her dancing, looking up at him crossly. "What?"

So she was still determined to be angry with him, for what he didn't know. Will sighed heavily. "I think you need to stop drinking."

"No," she scoffed at him, attempting to return to her dance but his hold on her arm remained firm.

Diplomatically he lowered his voice, hauling her closer to say, "I really think you've had enough. Come on now, put the drink down."

Elizabeth gave him a mulish look. "Make me," she said, taking a long drink just for spite.

She certainly could be stubborn – downright exasperating – when she wanted to be, and here he'd done nothing wrong, absolutely nothing improper that he could account for. He ought to want to shake her silly…..so why did he instead have the urge to grab her and kiss her into compliance?

Will set his jaw. "Elizabeth – just…._please_. You don't need the drink." In a rougher tone, he added, "And you shouldn't be dancing with strange men."

"Ahh. So I'm not allowed to dance with anyone now," she said accusingly. "It's called having fun, Will. You should try it some time."

Her words bespoke obvious anger, but there was something in her eyes and voice that caused him to believe there was something deeper behind this, though he couldn't say what.

"It might be fun for _them_," he said gently, "but it won't be for you, not when you sober up and realize – " She rolled her eyes at him, stopping him midsentence. "Look, I don't know what's going on here between us, what I did or said, but I'm only telling you this as a friend."

She flinched then. It was only an infinitesimal movement but Will caught it, however he remained clueless as to its meaning.

"A friend?" Elizabeth repeated, her expression positively mutinous. "I've no use for your 'friendship' tonight, Mr. Turner."

He had no idea why she was trying to hurt him. He hadn't meant to hurt _her_. But something about her righteous anger – her eyes wide, her lips pouting indignantly, huffing her breath at him in that low cut dress – made him want to tear her clothes off and show her more pleasurable ways to expend that energy.

"You had use for it that first night on the pier," Will pointed out. "I brought you to safety, and never laid a hand on you."

"And what serendipity that was," she said, her voice holding a sharp edge of sarcasm and annoyance.

Elizabeth made to move away from him, but his hands found her shoulders, holding her there immobile at arm's length.

"You won't be able to say the same thing about those other men you're dancing with."

His expression and tone were dangerous, heavy with some emotion she couldn't quite place. Then he nudged her just a bit closer, his eyes falling to her mouth, and her resentful facade cracked mightily.

"I….I'm going back to my dancing," she said weakly. "Unless…..unless you've decided you want my company after all."

"I never remember saying I didn't," he replied, his voice hot and low.

She inched closer to him. "Then you _are_ going to dance with me?"

His eyes left hers to make a slow perusal of her body, drifting down and back up over her nearly exposed curves. At length, he brought his eyes back to hers in an outright incendiary gaze.

Elizabeth swallowed heavily. The way Will looked at her, she could almost feel him touching her, petting her, caressing her. "Well," she asked encouragingly, "are you going to?"

She was killing him in that dress. There was no way he could take her in his arms right now and keep things 'slow and easy'. "No," he whispered regretfully.

The slight flaring of her nostrils was her only perceivable reaction. Downing the rest of her daiquiri, she answered flatly, "Then I'll find someone else who will."

She broke out of his hold and he let her, but reached out and grabbed her hand before she left, squeezing it tenderly. "Be careful, Elizabeth."

In the end, it was Will who walked away, leaving Elizabeth staring after him. She bit her lower lip, her eyes falling from his broad shoulders, to his narrow hips, to his mouth-watering behind, slowly blurring into the crowd with every step he took away from her. Her pulse still raced erratically from their recent closeness, from the way he looked at her. He could have had her before. He could have had her _then_. He could be making wild, glorious love to her tonight – but no!

Will sat back down at his table, taking a page out of her book and grabbing for his drink. Elizabeth unconsciously took several steps closer, wanting to watch his throat work as he threw back the remainder of his beer.

Her mind was slightly muddled, searching for a clear reason as to what she was doing out here all alone and why it was so important that she stay angry with Will. Somewhere during the course of the evening the cause of making him jealous, making him pay, had given way beneath the booze to simply enjoying herself, letting go, being sensual. She could feel the music, now turning steadily smooth and slow and beguiling, reach inside her, seeping into her blood, into her body. She wanted to move and feel – and right now the thing she wanted to feel was Will…..Perhaps she could have a second go at that seduction.

Sitting in the banquette, Jack opposite him in the chair, Will watched as Elizabeth slowly sashayed over to him, a third drink now in her hand.

…..The way she moved. The way that dress moved on her. The way she moved _beneath_ that dress. She had no idea how sexy she was, the incredible things she did to him without even trying.

She slid onto the banquette close beside him and the space between them instantly charged with an electric awareness.

"I thought you were dancing," Will said.

"No. I couldn't seem to find the right man. It just didn't feel right." Elizabeth scooted nearer to him. "I bet _you_ could make it feel right," she told him provocatively. "You once told me you knew just how to maneuver….and something about thrust and friction."

Jack made a choking sound across the table, dually stunned that Will had said such a thing to her and that Elizabeth was so apparently crocked. But they both completely ignored him.

"Yes. I'm _sure_ you'd make it feel right," Elizabeth affirmed, her eyes glued to Will.

Her blatant innuendo and the clear invitation in her eyes began to crumble his gentlemanly resolve. Elizabeth was definitely coming on to him now. There was no denying it. And here she'd been angry with him all night…..It was amazing how much more receptive she grew once she was generously laced with rum.

"Are you going to join me then?" she cajoled, laying her hand over his on the tabletop.

Will felt about ready to jump out of his skin. He was trying hard to suppress his every male inclination to drag her off somewhere and make it feel _very_ right for her – and it was all the more difficult when she was touching him. He shot a quick look of panic toward Jack, whose expression clearly told him he was on his own.

"It's a tantalizing offer," Will told her. "You have no idea," he adjoined, sotto voce. "But I think I'll have to pass."

Her kissable mouth curved down into the sexiest pout imaginable, but she made no protest. Instead she snared his gaze, holding it as she softly worked her forefinger across the back of his hand. Taking a drink from her latest cocktail, she then pulled her hand away from his and set it across the scandalously high hem of her dress. When she was certain her movement had drawn his attention there, she deliberately crossed her long bare legs.

It was then that Will realized she was toying with him – and less than a second afterwards that he discovered he was wholly content filling the role of her plaything. She reached up and touched a fallen lock of his hair, weaving it around her finger before brushing it across his temple, her fingers grazing his skin. Her seductive words and taunting actions were making him hot and impatient for more than mere flirtation.

Elizabeth inched closer to Will until they were touching. Then she brought her hand back up, running it over his as she gave him a come-and-get-it smile that had his body instantly responding.

Removing her hand from his, she curled it around her glass, using her tongue to draw the straw into her mouth for a sip. "Do you know what this drink is called, Will?" she asked afterwards. But he seemed to be paralyzed, his focus riveted on her mouth. She bent forward, leaning into him, and his eyes fell to her breasts with undiluted male interest. "Sex on the beach," she told him. When he didn't respond, she asked, "What are your thoughts on that?"

He burned with wanting her, and every last one of his thoughts involved the two of them in a back room learning all about friction, but he answered, "I think you've had enough."

She slowly flashed him that enticing smile again. He kept saying 'no' but there was an unmistakable glint of 'yes' in his eyes. "I haven't had nearly enough," she murmured seductively, obviously meaning 'sex, on the beach' and not the drink itself. The rum loosened her tongue enough to further admit what she never had before, "In fact, not any."

Will felt her fingers on his knee then and his heart rate accelerated, all thoughts falling away under the exquisite distraction of her touch.

"….We could fix that," Elizabeth offered. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. "Don't you want to, Will? Even a little?" Her hand slid higher up his leg and he jerked, gasping. She giggled throatily. "Maybe a lot."

Heat licked though his body and it was a full minute before his mind cleared enough to form a response – especially since she still had her hand on him. "Didn't anyone ever warn you not to play with fire?" he asked her, his voice husky.

"Are you fire, Will?" she teased, her caressing hand sliding up to his inner thigh. "Can you make me burn?"

Will had never wanted anyone or anything more than he wanted her at that moment. He had no doubt he could make her burn and she could do the same to him, and he wanted that – oh, how he wanted that – so much so he nearly seethed with desire. It took every bit of his strength to pluck her hand away, but he did. Still it did nothing to cool the palpable sexual heat between them.

Elizabeth saw it in his eyes, knew that he wanted her. She put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing her soft fingers up and down his arm. Will shivered and she smiled.

She seemed to enjoy making him squirm, so much he would have allowed her the pleasure if it wasn't quickly leading them on a course she had no intention of traveling. When her hand moved to his chest, he could take no more and slid out off of the banquette, moving around to the other side of the table and pulling up another chair beside Jack, who up until that moment they'd forgotten was even still there.

"Don't mind me," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm enjoying the show."

Will thought he heard Jack say something more but everything else was lost on him, as Elizabeth had slipped out of her shoe and was now running her foot over his.

Jack smirked in amusement and continued to talk, apparently needing no response, but Will's whole attention was on Elizabeth and the entrancing look in her eyes as she continued to torment him beneath the table, sliding her bare toe up his pant leg. But all bets were off when she raised her leg, foot en pointe, and lifted those wayward toes up into his lap. Eyes frozen forward, he went absolutely still, savoring her efforts for half a second before grunting and jumping backing out of her reach so fast his chair nearly tumbled over.

Elizabeth's face clouded at that. There was no mistaking such a distinctly negative reaction. Even if he _had_ liked it for a little while, Will was obviously determined to have nothing to do with her romantically, physically, or anything otherwise then bringing her safely home.

She too slid off the banquette. "Fine," she said to Will, miffed. "Since you don't seem to want me, I'll go find a more willing partner. If you change your mind, let me know. I may or may not still be around."

Will stood with his hands outstretched in a position of bewildered surrender as she brushed past him, heading back out toward the dance floor. Shaking himself from the daze, he turned to Jack and asked, "What the hell just happened?"

"You blew it – again," Jack answered simply. He waited for Will to walk around the table and sit back down on the banquette. "Don't you recognize a woman on the make when you see one?"

"I've told you, Jack, it's not like that between us."

Jack laughed at that. He could see the beads of sweat that had formed on Will's forehead during Elizabeth's little foray around his pants. "Sure it ain't, you randy dog."

Disregarding his comment, Will scanned the crowd for Elizabeth, finding her just as she twirled into the arms of some random man.

Will gritted his teeth and Jack grinned. "You really should've accepted her invitation while she was still sober. Now you've become a babysitter."

"She's far from a baby. That's the problem."

Jack could commiserate with that. "It's not too late for a good one-nighter. She's drunk, sure, but not too drunk to consent. And anyway, William, I'm pretty sure she just gave you a resounding yes."

Will shuddered to think of the rest of Jack's code of honor, or lack thereof, if that was any example. "And what would she think of me afterwards?"

Jack's face acknowledged that Will had a point, still he shrugged. "At least you'd have several rounds with her before then, get her out of your system."

Will shook his heard somberly. "A few tumbles would never be enough."

"That _is_ a real problem."

Will's brow rose at that, and he tore his gaze away from Elizabeth's flirtation with another man to stare at the label of his empty beer bottle. "I wouldn't take advantage of her anyway, even if I could."

Jack took a long slug from his own drink, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and proclaiming, "Well trust me, you can."

Will's eyes sought out Elizabeth again; they couldn't seem to stay away. "You're wrong," he said, watching her intently. "She doesn't feel anything for me."

"She was _tryin'_ to feel something for you. You just moved her hand….and foot."

"Okay, yes, but it's not like that – She just…. she shouldn't be drinking. She's not used to it, and – uh! She's got another one," Will remarked in dismay, seeing Elizabeth walking away from the bar, another rum drink in hand. He got up from the table, already on the move as he told Jack, "I've got to stop her before something bad happens."

But Jack grabbed hold of his elbow and stopped him. "If you do that, it's about to," he muttered. "You don't take a drink away from a woman like that, and there's certainly no good to come from telling her what to do. I have the distinct impression that Elizabeth Swann is never going to take orders from anyone ever again." With that, Jack left Will alone there to ponder what he'd said.

True enough, Elizabeth had become….well…amorous towards him, but she was probably too drunk to even realize what she was doing. Still, despite the convenient excuse that alcohol often was for some people – his father and Jack among them – he'd never believed being under the influence altered people's personalities all that much. It lowered a person's inhibitions, sure, but they still acted on preexisting impulses and desires. So could that mean that Elizabeth, on some level, was to be taken seriously? Could she really want him? Had she wanted to hit on him all this time and the rum just brought it out of her?

Will continued to observe Elizabeth, and thankfully his intervention at least on the drinking wasn't necessary. Whatever was in the glass this new man had bought her evidently wasn't to her liking. After only one short taste she left it on the bar, going back to the dance floor, alone this time.

Will didn't know what to make of this new Elizabeth. He still didn't understand what had gone wrong in their bizarre initial encounter. Although, granted, he had been awfully distracted by that fact that she looked like sex walking. Nevertheless he'd thought his behavior had been everything it should be. Afterwards, as the night wore on, he had admittedly been a little distant – because she was unaccountably pissed at him, getting drunker by the moment, and was so criminally sexy in that dress he doubted his abilities to remain a gentleman with her. And that was before she'd gotten all hot to trot; apparently rum was her aphrodisiac. But he shouldn't kid himself. It wasn't personal. In her inebriated state, any man would do just as well as him, a point she'd repeatedly made throughout the course of the evening.

All the same, it didn't stop his yearning for her. Elizabeth certainly was a force to be reckoned with. He had always considered himself a strong man, but after just one smile from her he was a goner. Everything about her appealed to him – the way she looked, the hypnotic way she moved, her intoxicating scent…..those lips and the things she could do with them. Walking home that night from Calypso, the way she'd kissed him had nearly driven him to his knees. But it was more than just the physical. It was the way she laughed, the way she spoke, her mischievous manner, her caring heart, and that independent, impulsive devil-may-care attitude of hers, especially tonight. She was the entire package; she had absolutely everything. There wasn't a single facet of her that didn't attract him. And maybe it _was_ just the rum, but she'd proven she could be quite the vixen. What with her busy hands and X-rated game of footsy, she'd teased and tempted him till he could barely see straight – and he'd never felt more alive. In short, he loved her body and soul, making it all the more difficult to fight the pull to her.

He ran a hand through his hair desperately. This was no good. Being her appointed guardian, keeping her safe watching over her from afar, was backfiring, only making him want her more and more…..

And she had no dance partner. Maybe he could offer himself after all. He wouldn't ever take advantage of her, true, but would it really be so wrong to placate her just a little? Isn't that what you were supposed to do with the overly intoxicated….or maybe that was sleepwalkers? Nevertheless, he felt his body rising from the table and crossing the room of its own accord. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he saw another man approach her, swinging a laughing Elizabeth into his embrace.

Elizabeth was caught off guard by this new suitor, but willing to go along. And why not? The night was young and so was she. Will didn't want her, and what else mattered?

But when the man spun her around to face him, she blinked heavily, thinking that Will was right; she'd had too much to drink. She couldn't be seeing who she thought she was seeing.

"Princess Swann," he said sternly.

She blinked again, but there was no mistaking her father's agent, Murtogg. Her heart was racing. She was filled with blind panic.

"Princess."

"No," Elizabeth said brokenly. They couldn't have found her. Her holiday couldn't be over just like that.

"It's alright, Princess."

The room was beginning to spin. "Just go away. Go back. I don't want you here."

At her response, his hold on her tightened. "You know I can't do that, ma'am. I have my orders." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mullroy move in to flank them. "We'll do this nice and easy. We don't want to make a scene. Just dance quietly over to the door. We have a car waiting."

"_No_. I won't go with you."

But the two men moved in on her, one on either side, grabbing her and beginning to drag her toward the stairs.

"NO! Stop!" she shouted, struggling against them.

Will crossed the dance floor in one second flat. He'd tried to warn Elizabeth that something like this was going to happen, but still he wasn't prepared for the sight of those men harassing her, putting their hands on her as she fought against them. His blood boiled as he loomed down upon them.

"LET HER GO!" he roared, wrenching the first man away from her.

Elizabeth didn't know where Will had come from, but seeing him her heart soared. A general chaos erupted after that. Murtogg spun back around and attempted to confront Will but, muscles flexing and pulling beneath that tight black shirt, in one swift punch, Will knocked him to the floor.

Elizabeth's breath caught. "Wow."

She longed to stand back and admire Will some more, but Murtogg wasn't yet down for the count and there was still Mullroy, going after Will now too. She wasn't about to let that happen. She'd never been a helpless female. This may not be dueling, but it couldn't be all that different.

Mullroy took a swing at Will and missed, absorbing a blow himself instead. While Will spun to deal with Murtogg next, Mullroy decided it best to simply forget about him and go after Elizabeth instead. He lunged for her but she avoided him, waiting until he was off guard to strike with a punch of her own – but, man, that hurt her hand!

Shooting a glance to the ledge on the booth's back, she spied an empty beer bottle perched atop. It wasn't exactly in the rules of engagement, but in a situation like this who fought fair? Grabbing the bottle, she swung and bashed it over Mullroy's head, breaking the bottle in two as the man fell to the floor, out cold.

With one final punch to the face, Murtogg too was unconscious, just as Jack and several members of security showed up to deal with the carnage. "What's going on?" he asked.

Will, not the least bit harmed as neither man had got in a successful hit against him, heaved in a breath as he straightened his clothes. "They were forcing themselves on Elizabeth, trying to make her leave with them."

Jack scowled at the two men. He may be a womanizer, but there was no call to ever force yourself on a woman. Besides the obvious fact that it was just plain wrong, any man worth his salt could have a woman willingly. He nodded to security. "Get 'em out of here. Take them off property and see to it they're not allowed back on."

The men did as he asked, carrying Murtogg and Mullroy out of the Empress. Around them, the drinking and dancing went on as before, the crowd remarkably unfazed.

"You alright?" Jack asked Will.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good." He turned to the few lingering patrons. "Nothing to see here, nothing at all," he said, dispersing the minimal onlookers.

Will turned to Elizabeth, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth, sweetheart, are you okay? Did they – "

"That was amazing," she laughed. By all accounts and purposes, she ought to be upset, but she was encased in a drunken euphoria and giddy with her accomplishment, finally claiming her freedom and asserting her independence. "Bloody fantastic. I've been wanting to do that for a long time," she giggled.

Will could scarcely believe his ears. His concern at seeing her pawed by those men swiftly bubbled over. "You're having _fun_? This isn't a game. Those men were – Do you have any idea what – " He broke off, shaking his head as she stared blankly at him.

Realization suddenly dawned on Elizabeth through the haze of rum. Will didn't know Murtogg and Mullroy. To him, they were just two random men….He must have thought they were hitting on her, that they desired her a little too much and were determined to have her one way or another.

Will gazed at her and sighed. "You don't know what those men wanted."

She was drunk and not exactly thinking clearly, but there seemed to be an insult in there somewhere, like she was too naïve and innocent to understand lust and what it led to.

Touching on a sore spot, this piqued her as little else could have, encouraging Elizabeth to egg him on further.

"What were you thinking, dancing all night with strangers?" he asked.

She looked up at him challengingly. "Maybe I was just looking for someone to show me a good time." She smiled purposefully, adding, "An _incredibly_ good time."

His fingers curled reflexively around her shoulder before he let his hand fall away.

She should be mad at him, annoyed at the conclusions he jumped to and his censure of her behavior when he had already refused any claim over her. But she couldn't dredge up the emotions. He was now no longer touching her, but standing mere inches away. The effect was maddeningly electrifying.

After the ruckus, much of his hair had fallen loose, more out of the tie then in. He looked dark and mysterious and good enough to eat. She couldn't say how or why, but Anna's words from days ago fluttered into her mind. _We all get those urges_. 'An itch', she'd called it.

Elizabeth laughed, soft and low. "Maybe I'm just looking to scratch an itch." She moved near, closing the remaining distance between them. "How are _your_ nails, Will?"

His eyes heated, along with the rest of his body. When she came on, she certainly came on. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment before looking down at her again. "Elizabeth, you shouldn't say things like that to me."

"Just like I shouldn't dance with those men?"

Will sighed again, clinging with a tenuous grasp to the remainder of his self-control. "You don't know what you're saying. You don't know what they were after."

She was high on the liquor, and the adrenaline of the fight, and the fact that his eyes smoldered even as he chastised her – and her knowledge of the reason why. She felt good. He looked good. From experience, she knew he tasted even better…..And he wanted her. She was sure of it.

Will made a halfhearted effort to put some distance back between them, but she pressed in closer, setting off a sensual hunger in him, a deep primitive pull he couldn't, and wouldn't, fight much longer.

Elizabeth turned her nose into his throat, breathing in his scent. Her hands moving to his shirtfront, she softly coaxed, "Live a little, Will."

Will took another long, calming breath, but it did no good. Everything in him was going insane for her.

Elizabeth registered the change in song and she smiled. She'd been trying to get him out on the dance floor all night. She couldn't remember the original reason. Sometime during the evening the booze and the music had clouded that, dulling her resolve and annihilating her inhibitions. They had all given way to pure carnality. For the first time in Elizabeth's life, her body was in complete control – and her body wanted Will.

Ever since she'd first laid eyes on him tonight, she'd longed to make one change to his otherwise perfect appearance. He'd left just the one collar button undone. She'd wanted to correct that all night. "Loosen up, Will," she said in a sultry purr, setting out to do just that. She slowly unfastened the first of his buttons, her gaze on his, not stopping until she'd reached halfway down his chest.

As her fingers brushed against his bare skin, he felt the fire within start low, seeing an answering flame in her eyes. Then she started to move, swaying to the slow lusty beat of the song he'd only now become aware of, and Will could no longer remember the reasons why this was a bad idea.

But she was off beat from the music, he noticed. This was an alluring, seductive song with an equally provocative bluesy tempo and she was doing another variation on the lively Calypso routine. Apparently it was the only modern dance she knew.

Will smiled, finding her efforts sweet….and arousing as hell. "You're doing it too fast," he told her.

"Then show me."

The heat flared again as she wiggled in closer to him. "The proper dance," he replied, his voice strained, "or what it was those men were after?"

She gave him a knowing grin. "A little of both perhaps….I'll leave it up to you."

Will didn't know about right or wrong anymore. He just needed to put out the fire. His eyes ran insolently down her body.

"You've been my teacher, showing me all the things I've missed. Come one, Will," she enticed, brushing purposefully up against him. His eyes fell close and he groaned softly. "Teach me this."

When he opened his eyes again they held a blatantly sexual glimmer. "Alright, Elizabeth. I'll show you," he answered breathlessly, his tone conveying that she'd asked for whatever she was about to get.

Will's hands came to rest on Elizabeth hips and a quiver of pleasure ran through her. Using his hands to guide her, he made her hips sway slowly this time, smoothly from side to side. She quickly caught on, rocking with the sexy flow of the music, her hips moving languidly, sensuously, almost like a belly dancer.

Now that she'd mastered the proper timing, he wrapped his arms around her, his fingers spreading out across her bare back. Caressing the full length of her satin skin as they danced was unspeakably erotic, like he was touching her naked, and he lost himself in the feel of her, his hands roaming from her lower back around to her waist as the rich, sensuous opening lines of the jazz standard began to be sung.

_~ Did you say I've got a lot to learn?_

_Well don't think I'm trying not to learn._

_Since this is the perfect spot to learn, teach me tonight_….. ~

Elizabeth placed her soft warm hands on his upper arms, gliding them up to grip his shoulders, further melding their bodies, and Will's mouth went dry. "Elizabeth," he breathed, his voice low and deep, his breath coming faster.

Everything and everyone else around them had faded away. He was completely caught up in the rhythm of your hips, teaching her slow, grinding moves that she immediately excelled at. And they both knew what was going on here, the natural culmination of long hour's – long day's – worth of sexual tension that had been building since the moment they first met.

A sigh escaped Elizabeth's lips. Every nerve in her body was hypersensitive to all the places he touched her and she pressed in closer, seeking to create even more, in the process making Will burn to do wicked things to her.

_~ Starting with the ABC of it._

_Getting right down to the XYZ of it._

_Help me solve the mystery of it, teach me tonight… ~_

He fit her body more fully against him, and the answering stirring was primal and swift. He was dizzy with wanting her, throbbing with a hard, aching lust. "Damn," he gasped through clenched teeth in a guttural, affected tone that wreaked havoc on Elizabeth's libido.

She'd given over to complete abandon. Her hair was tousled, her eyes hooded, as she let out a tremulous murmur that was nothing short of titillating to his already overheated senses. He looked down at her with feral intent, ready to devour her, all his pent-up desire for her on the verge of exploding.

Elizabeth had never been with a man this way, _wanted_ a man this way. Her alcohol-soaked mind registered the feel of the hard planes of his stomach, his chest, his forearms where they pressed against her and her breath quickened in response. Following a deep innate impulse, she hooked her fingers through the belt loops of his pants and pulled his pelvis closer to hers. She smiled in response, knowing without a doubt now that he desperately wanted her; she could feel the proof of it. And she loved how he came apart at the seams for her. She canted hers hips back and forth in a steady bump and grind that had Will uttering a curse beneath his breath.

He was positively beyond the ragged edge. He wanted his tongue in her mouth, wanted his hands on her body, wanted _her_ more than he thought possible.

Elizabeth's warm breath teased his lips and a blatant invitation was in her eyes as she seductively whispered, "Am I doing it right, Will?"

With a feral grin, he answered, "_Oh yes_."

He'd never been so completely undone, imagining himself pressing his lips to every inch of her skin. To test the fantasy, he brushed his mouth over her ear, and she sucked in a breath. The soft sighs she made, combined with the I'm-yours tilt of her body into his, ignited Will, causing an instant combustion. Her perfect mouth was parted, her lush body pressed against him, curving, seamlessly molding to his, and a deep hungry sound rumbled from his throat.

Elizabeth turned around then, trying something new, dancing with her back to his chest, shimmying up and down him, her hands running over his thighs. This pleased her for a time, then she spun back around and Will immediately hauled her up back against him to the continued sexy strains of the singer's latest verse.

_~ One thing isn't very clear my love._

_Should the teacher stand so near my love?_

_Graduation's almost here my love._

_Come on and teach me tonight….. ~_

Will skimmed his hands along her sides, setting small fires all over her as he greedily touched her, not knowing if he'd ever get the chance again. Giving over to visceral need, Elizabeth angled herself into him, her hands around his neck, drawing him near.

A moan escaped from deep within chest, and he moved his hand to the small of her back, urging her closer into him until she was plastered against him, her hips brushing his, his thighs pressed to hers, every inch of their bodies touching from collarbone to hipbone.

An absolute conflagration fired up inside Will as he moved with her to the gently pulsing rhythm. He wanted her in many varied ways – right now, all of them naked. His breath was ragged, his eyes dark with desire. It was all he could do not to devour her then and there. "Elizabeth, I…." he rasped.

His hand slid back to her hips, tugging her tightly to him as she swayed side to side, and the pleasure intensified. He raked his hand through his hair and let out another whispered curse.

~ _I who thought I knew the score of it_

K_ind of think I should know much more of it._

_Off the wall, the bed, the floor of it, teach me tonight_….. ~

Raw heat flashed through Elizabeth. She'd never known such hunger. She was flushed with undisguised lust, her senses whirling with a fury of sensations. She murmured Will's name as heat gathered low in her belly, slowly melting her at her core until she felt she might burst into flames. She was beyond thought, beyond control. With her head back, his hot breath fanning her throat, it all felt so good she'd willingly give herself to him, right here, right now, in front of everyone.

She wanted to pull him closer, all the way inside her, till there was no trace of where she ended and he began. She fisted her hands up into her hair as she continued in the provocative dance, not quite sure what to do with these overwhelming feelings, never having experienced anything of this magnitude before. Giving over to elemental instincts, Elizabeth shoved Will down onto a nearby bar stool and straddled him slightly.

A stunned Will looked up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "Elizabeth?" he questioned hoarsely.

But she made no verbal response, merely began giving him what could only be described as a sort of a novice lap dance. Though it might be lacking a certain finesse, Will couldn't imagine it possibly doing anything more for him as her body rubbed against his and her pert breasts tantalized at eyelevel, nearly falling out of her dress. He was consumed by desire, by lust, by a driving relentless hunger that threatened to overtake him, sending him slowly out of his mind.

Then the song abruptly ended. And, with a breathless heated smile, she walked away.

* * *

AN: Obviously a lot was packed into this chapter, but I hoped you enjoyed it. I sort of ended it on a high note, but the scene will be picking up directly from here next chapter.

Anyway, I included an inspiration from Roman Holiday in here (namely, agents from her country showing up at the dance, and a general fight ensuing) and several moments inspired by the Pirates firms. To name a few, the dark blue leather upholstery on the barstools at the Empress was my nod to Will's delectable blue leather jacket in DMC. The part where the men were ogling Elizabeth, making her uncomfortable, and she kept pulling on the hem of her dress is a take on the bathhouse scene in AWE. Will's repeated attempts to warn Elizabeth that the other men are dangerous and she shouldn't go off with them is a nod to their similar argument over Sao Feng after the mutiny in AWE. And, finally, of course Elizabeth's initial flirtation about having a dream about Will last night was my ode to their opening scene in CotBP.

Really the largest inspiration for this chapter was redoing the basic gist of that scene in a modern context, where she keeps trying her hardest to hit on him, but he just doesn't get it, in the process angering and offending her until she turns cold to him herself. However, in the film, the scene ends with Elizabeth leaving. It's my hypothesis that she isn't really angry with Will in the movie either, she's just upset that he seems to have rebuffed her. And had she not left the house, but instead they'd been continual thrown together throughout the day, I believe she may have made a further attempt at drawing him out. That is what I tried to write here. Of course, it just made it that much more fun when they're both raging with lust and Elizabeth's so completely drunk she's being scandalously outrageous to poor Will who's just trying to do the right thing by her. Just a little spoiler: you will see this continue and worsen for poor, dear Will in the next chapter.

Let me know what you think!

Oh, and I almost forgot. If anyone cares the song Will and Elizabeth danced to is an old jazz standard called "Teach Me Tonight". My very favorite version, and the one I had in mind when writing this, is the one performed by Chaka Khan.


	15. Lost

**AN: **This chapter picks up directly where the last one left off, so if you need a refresher at all it might be a good idea to reread the last paragraph or so of Chapter 14 to get a feel for what was happening.

* * *

I'm in over my head

You got under my skin

I've got no strength at all in the state that I'm in

- D. Warren

* * *

Will sat on the barstool in a daze, his entire body melting. His breath was ragged, his face flushed, his pupils dilated. His stupefied mind struggled to pull itself together, groping for coherent thought, but his brain had long since stopped being in control.

"Will," Jack said, his tone heavy with amused disbelief as he walked around the bar to him. "Did you enjoy your dance, mate?"

"I….ah….um," Will strove to reply, his voice thick. He awkwardly slid off the stool, standing unsteadily beside it, the placket of his pants noticeably raised.

"Something tells me you did," Jack laughed.

Will shot him a dirty look, but that seemed all he was capable of doing at the moment.

Content to do all the talking, enjoying himself at the other man's expense, Jack let out a low whistle. "That was some show. I've seen a lot in my lifetime – some right her in this club – but never two people dry humpin' in the middle of my bar."

Will glowered at him but still appeared unable to form intelligible words.

"Hey, I'm proud of you," Jack grinned. "And I've gotta say, I always knew 'Lizbeth had it in her. Everything about her screams of latent fire just waiting to be unleashed, if you know what I mean – and I see that you do," he said, his voice dripping with barely contained levity as he nudged Will with his elbow. But the younger man was not at all enjoying the joke, looking almost pained instead. Jack glanced pointedly down at the crotch of his pants and laughed again, unable to resist another jibe. "Bet you almost wish you were a eunuch 'bout now, huh?"

"Shut up, Jack," Will answered through gritted teeth.

Jack chuckled but his mirth lessoned when his watchful eye saw Elizabeth exit the Empress. "You better go after your dolly belle," he told Will, nodding toward the slowly closing door. "She seems to have had about four too many."

Will pushed away from the bar, all but staggering, his movements slow and stiff as he made his way to the stairs, Jack hot on his heels.

"Just think about what dear ol' Daddy – or, to you, Your Highness – would do if he saw you tonight violatin' his daughter. Or was she violating you? Either way, that ought to go a long way to helping you out with your _little_ problem," he smirked.

Stepping out into the fresh night air, Will managed to get more of a hold on himself, but his body still throbbed from wanting Elizabeth…who he'd just found.

Elizabeth stood right around the corner from the entrance, on the side of the club leading to the resort's private area, just feet from the pier where they'd first met. Her entire body felt flushed and hot – both in temperature and another kind of heat that had nearly boiled over during her dance floor tryst with Will. And the alcohol was beginning to have more and more of an affect on her, making Elizabeth feel lightheaded and strange. She blinked, staring out into the water, struggling to cool down.

Will turned the corner and walked the dozen or so steps to her side. He took one look at her in that damnable dress and whatever progress he'd made toward self-restraint fell away in an instant, being replaced by a string of decidedly immoral thoughts.

He could identify the exact moment Elizabeth noticed him watching her. She looked up from the ocean, her expression changing as her eyes settled on him, but her full lips formed into another of her devastating pouts, as if she were somehow displeased with him.

"What's the matter?" he asked her softly, stopping mere inches before her.

"You weren't being a very good teacher."

Reliving in his mind just what their 'lesson' had entailed, Will looked at her with a stark intensity that might have given her pause were she not so intoxicated. "I showed you the dance," he said.

And there was that tone again, one that cautioned of the danger to come – a warning she failed to heed either time.

"Yes…But you didn't show me what those men were after," Elizabeth answered seductively. He made no reply, but his expression turned positively scorching, serving to both entice and encourage her. "Or what would happen if I did something like this….."

She ran her hand over his chest and he felt an immediate rush of lust. Then her hand continued downward and the rush of the water, the laughing guests exiting the Empress, the gentle wind on his back, they all fell away. His entire concentration was focused on her taunting hand, playing across his abdomen to the waistline of his pants where they sat low against his hips.

When she fingered the button on his pants, something dark and explosive shattered inside Will and before she knew what was happening he had her pressed hard against the wall with his body, one of his arms on either side of her head.

A thrill zinged through Elizabeth. His eyes were glazed, burning with blatant male hunger that took her breath away, but for Will the urge to do more that just look was nearly overpowering.

His gaze fell to her mouth, only a breath away from his. "You want me to show you?" He whispered the challenge and she shivered, making him desire her all the more.

It would be easy – so easy – to kiss her, fall into her lush body, take a few steps back into the shadows and make love to her on the sand…but he couldn't. And for once it wasn't about his stupid rules. There would be no misunderstandings or false illusions where she was concerned. He was no longer kidding himself; he knew he was in love with her. If she wanted forever, he'd give her forever on a silver platter. But he couldn't have her this way. For one thing, she deserved more than quick sex just off the sidewalk of a darkened bar. And, most importantly, she was nearly falling over drunk and he needed her to be certain of her decision, needed to make sure she knew her own mind.

He took several deep gulps of air, gathering his inner strength. Then, his jaw hardened with determination, he drew back. Pulling himself away from her, he put some much needed distance between them, walking off toward the pier, leaving a floored Elizabeth breathing heavily in his wake.

Her heart beat wildly. Her knees were weak. She was excited and beyond turned on by his sudden show of raw, animal passion…..and by the anticipation of what she thought – _hoped_ – he might do next. Hesitating for only a beat, she hurried off after him, desperately wanting more lessons.

She caught up to him on the piers edge, sitting on the very bench where he'd first found her. He looked up at her but made no comment, silently watching as she plopped down on the bench beside him, overshooting the mark, her gorgeous little behind wobbling near the edge. For a moment he thought she would topple over the back – reminding him of just how very inebriated she was – but at the last second her hands managed to clutch onto the lip of the bench, righting herself just in the nick of time.

"So," Will sighed, looking straight ahead at the solid wall of the Empress in the near distance, "we made it to our pier after all." When she glanced at him blankly, he laughed, reminding her, "Earlier you said you wanted us to come out here tonight."

"Hmm," Elizabeth observed, as if it were a novelty that she'd said such a thing. Obviously she had no recollection of it. He wondered how little else of the evening she currently retained – and how much she would remember tomorrow.

"Let's go," he said, taking her hand and helping her up from the bench.

"Where to?"

"I'm walking you home."

She frowned. "Always the gentleman."

However much else had filtered from her brain, the knowledge that she was peeved with him over something had evidently managed to stay with her, if fleetingly, and it all seemed to stem from politeness and chivalry. She said the word 'gentleman' as if it were an insult. Perhaps in her drunken confusion she equated it with how she was treated back home? Either way, he thought it best not to question her; he'd never get a reliable answer now anyway.

They began walking down the trail that led through the private beach to the courtyard and cabanas beyond, but they'd only gone a little way before it became abundantly clear that Elizabeth's balance was off. She faltered and very nearly took a tumble several times now. Will turned to her, about to suggest she lose the heels – he never did understand how women managed to walk in them, although she looked damned good doing it – when he noticed a rather large mosquito resting on her bare shoulder, poised to take a bite. He couldn't say he blamed the little critter. More than once tonight the thought of sucking Elizabeth's warm flesh had tempted him as well…...But he had to do away with _that_ image quickly. He'd only just begun to get a rein on his overstimulated body.

"Elizabeth, you, you have – " He pointed at the mosquito, but she stared at him, then down at her skin, then back at him again, completely clueless. "A bug," he said, finally reaching over and nudging it away himself.

About thirty seconds too late, she jumped back with a yelp, swiping at her now bug-free shoulder.

Will bit back a laugh, thinking his lovely Elizabeth a walking public service announcement against the impaired motor skills of drunk drivers.

"You're laughing at me," she sweetly accused, her slightly glazed eyes sparkling with amusement.

He smiled, grabbing her wrist and tugging her near as he pointed her in the proper direction and they set off down the trail once more.

It should be his own self he was laughing at. Happy or sad, amused or angry, sober or beyond wasted, he wanted and loved her to a degree that made his heart ache. But, whether he stood half a chance or not, there wasn't a thing he could do about it tonight other than, as Jack so cleverly put it, be her babysitter.

And what a night to look after a slice of heaven here on earth and not be allowed to touch it. Temptation was all around them. The evening was balmy, the perfect temperature; the sound of the waves gently breaking in the distance the perfect music; and the star-studded night sky the perfect ambiance.

The soft breeze caught a strand Elizabeth's hair and Will reached out, gently tucking it behind her ear. The light touch was all it took for their gazes to met and hold, a charge of electricity passing between them. She offered him a silent smile, then continued on, pitching and weaving more with each step she took.

Because her walking was so unstable – and for no other reason, none whatsoever – he slipped his arm around her waist for support. When her head came down to rest against his shoulder he realized his profound error. The whole night it felt as if he'd been under her spell, his actions beyond his control, and there was no hope of breaking it now with her snuggled so comfortably against him.

"I'm _so_ happy," she mumbled, lifting her head and releasing a string of melodic laughter. "Happy," she sighed, lost in her own private euphoria.

Throwing her arms around him in a hug, Elizabeth gave him a light squeeze before slipping out of his grasp and clumsily running off the footpath and onto the beach beyond.

"Let's go walking in the sand, Will," she called to him, as if the suggestion was the greatest thing she'd ever come up with. When he reluctantly followed her onto the beach, she began exuberantly kicking up sand, turning in circles and laughing merrily.

He put his arm round her waist again, stilling her body and steering it back in the right direction. "How about we just come back up on the path and walk home," he suggested instead, but his face and voice were the very essence of contented amusement.

Elizabeth dug her heels into the sand, refusing to budge until Will too let loose in the sand.

"Fine," he grinned, giving her a boisterous rendition of the silliest dance she'd ever seen, pumping his fists downward and kicking his heels into the air on either side, ending with some hilariously bad disco moves.

Elizabeth erupted into a fit of giggles. "Will, Will, Will," she laughed, her pretty little voice slurred, as he came to her side.

He collected her safely back into his embrace, her cheek resting against him once more, and they started out again toward home, this time with no further resistance. But the closer they got, the quieter Will grew until Elizabeth eventually lifted her head from his shoulder. Looking up at him through her lashes, she delicately asked, "Are you upset with me?"

The soft, unsure way she said it turned his heart to mush. "I'm not upset with you, sweetheart," he gently promised.

'Upset' wasn't the word. He still wanted her, painfully so. Her nearness was only making it worse – the sight of her barely clad body, her tantalizing scent, the feel of her softness pressed against his side. And all the while his concern was vying for dominance with his need for her. She was so drunk when he knew she'd never been even once before in her life. She was vulnerable. She wasn't thinking clearly. Underlying his every action, his every word, was his ongoing caution with her. He couldn't afford to encourage her in the slightest. If she started coming on to him again he would be in serious trouble. It was becoming increasingly, shamefully hard to resist her – a fact that was made shockingly clear back at the Empress when he'd been sorely tempted to take her against the wall of the building or, perhaps if he had an ounce or two of restraint, hustle her inside to one of the private rooms and have his way with her there. Neither such scenario should have entered into his mind…..nor should they be exciting him so now.

Will shook himself, stepping back away from her, but no sooner had he done that than she began to sway precariously and veer off the path. _Right_, he thought, putting his arm back around her shoulders this time and leading her on.

When they reached the courtyard, Elizabeth perked up, advancing toward the pool's end and peering in at the water. She took another step and teetered, nearly slipping in, until Will tugged her back, hauling her away from the edge.

"But I _want_ to go in the pool," she protested, pouting up at him.

He reached out to tuck her lower lip back in, another colossal mistake as he now vividly remembered the feel of that softness pressed against his mouth.

"Let's go for a swim, Will," she coaxed.

His eyes made a quick path, down and back up her body. "You're not dressed for it."

"I have my bikini inside….a new one you've never seen," she said, her brow raised enticingly as if to indicate the sight of her in it alone would be worth his trouble.

"Some other time," he softly promised, and meant it. If the other bikini had been the tame one, he'd be more than happy to oblige her in a water sport or two once he saw her in this new one.

"Alright," she sighed in disappointment, walking wobbly ahead of him toward her bungalow.

The thick waves of her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and back, swaying with her every flouncing movement. He was momentarily lost in the picture she made, until her heard her say, "Of course, we'll have to get _you_ a new swimsuit too."

"What's wrong with my suit?" he countered, a hint of playful offense in his voice.

"If mine gets smaller, so should yours." Elizabeth gave him a hot look over her shoulder. "I think maybe a speedo." She laughed wickedly. "…Maybe Jack's got one." She dissolved into hysterics at the thought of that.

Will shook his head, following after her. How could he even begin to try to resist her?

He reached her side in time to watch her stumble up her steps, tripping and nearly falling headfirst into the wooden deck of her porch. She would have too, if he hadn't grabbed her arm at the last minute, pulling her back just enough so that she landed on her shin rather than her head.

"Ouch," she murmured, shuffling back up again. He reached out, steadying her, as she fumbled with the doorknob, unable to get it open.

He knew then what he had to do. There was no way she should be left alone tonight. She'd nearly fallen off the bench, careened into the pool, slammed her head into the porch – as it was she was liable to have a nasty bruise on her leg come the morning.

"Come on," he said, taking her arm and carefully leading her back down the stairs of her bungalow.

"Where are we going?"

Will took a long, slow breath. "You're going to stay with me tonight." He took her hand and led her across the way, looking gravely at her, preparing himself for whatever her response may be, but she merely smiled and let out a sensuous laugh. He didn't allow himself to ponder _that_ reaction very long. Hurrying up his steps he turned and, taking no chances this time, gripped Elizabeth's waist, lifting her up the three stairs to his porch.

After unlocking the door, he paused, glancing within and contemplating the quiet intimacy of the rooms she'd soon be sharing with him. He could do this, he told himself, turning back to face her.

"Taking me back to your place," she laughingly flirted. "Why that's awfully forward of you, Mr. Turner. Unless, of course, it's exactly where I _wanted_ to end the night." With that, she brushed past him, walking into his darkened great room.

Will still stood outside on the porch, steeling his resolve. For days now, he'd been lost to anything but Elizabeth. He couldn't sleep, couldn't think for wanting her, couldn't see anything beyond her. And now, as she sashayed into his dark empty house – where they would spend the night alone together – he wondered what on earth he'd just let himself in for. But that wasn't true. He knew _exactly_ the sort of trouble he was letting himself in for. He would have a hell of a time keeping his hands off a scantily clad, very drunk Elizabeth.

Inside, Elizabeth teetered and swiveled, awkwardly managing to turn and face Will. The brief thought flitted through her fogged mind that she shouldn't have made that verbal slip outside, letting him know what her plans had been for tonight – not after the way he'd treated her. But then she couldn't remember exactly how he _had_ treated her, only that he was there now, being so remarkably Will…..and she was spending the night with him.

"What do you intend on doing with me now?" It was a purposefully loaded question, delivered in such as way as to give him little doubt that she'd meant its double meaning.

"I intend to see you safely tucked away, to sleep this off," Will returned. However, the look he gave her, whether intentional or otherwise, told her there were a great many other things he wished to do with her rather than send her to sleep. "Come with me," he said, his hands upon her shoulders, leading her down the hallway.

"I've been here before," Elizabeth chided, reaching the end of the hallway and gracelessly tripping into his bedroom. "I know the way."

"I doubt you know your own name, let alone where you're going," he answered in amusement, flipping on the light.

Will nodded his approval as the harsh, bright light flooded the room, obliterating the romantic moonlight streaming through the window and their evocative shadows dancing on the walls. He'd need all the help he could get tonight.

"That isn't true," she slurred. "I know well perfectly…._perfectly well_," she corrected, "what I'm doing." She turned sharply, bumping into his chest. "I'm staying the night at your place," she whispered.

He watched her step back away from him, swiveling to remove those killer heels that had nearly broken her neck several times on the walk home. As she bent, she unknowingly treated him to a mouthwatering view of her tight, rounded behind as well as the supple expanse of her bare back, and he found himself wondering what it would be like to run his mouth along the exposed curve of her spine all the way down to –

Will cleared his throat and, in lieu of throwing her on the bed and making passionate love to her, shoved his hands in his pockets, studying the stitching on his coverlet.

"And that's good too, that I'm staying the night," Elizabeth continued slumberously, clueless to his amorous thoughts, "because I'm feeling very strange; I admit it."

She rubbed at her eyes, finally clumsily managing to kick off her last shoe. Her head was beginning to swim and she was having trouble stringing her thoughts together.

"Maybe if I just lie down for a minute."

"Good idea," Will replied. Elizabeth falling asleep quickly and easily would be the best thing for them both.

"Very sleepy," she mumbled as she flopped down onto his bed. Landing against his pillow, she breathed in his scent that still clung there and smiled. "Much better," she sighed, making herself comfortable.

But seeing her lying there upon his mattress was straight out of the dreams he'd been having for days, unnerving him more than a little. "O-okay. Well – "

"Much, much better," she giggled, adding, "so very sleepy" as an afterthought. She let out a low moan of contentment and, as Will watched, she burrowed further into his bed, her bottom nestling out a comfortable groove in the blankets.

"And yet you keep moving around," he replied, tugging at the suddenly-too-tight collar of his shirt only to discover that it was still open and undone midway to his navel, as she's left it back at the Empress.

Will's eyes darted away from her all too appealing figure to stare at the far wall. When he turned back, Elizabeth lay there still wiggling and writhing on his bed, her skirt riding up higher with each movement she made, driving him slowly crazy as it revealed more and more of her smooth thighs…..quickly on its way to revealing a while lot more besides.

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to regain some trace of composure. Reaching for a distraction – any distraction – he at last alighted on an idea. Crossing the room to his dresser, he offered, "I can – I can find you a shirt to sleep in. It'll be too big, but it's got to be more comfortable than what you have on."

Successfully locating a likely candidate in the drawer, a worn but soft and clean old t-shirt – one of his favorites – he moved to give it to her, but his breath caught anew at the hopelessly alluring picture she made, stretched out over his bed, her arms up against his pillow, looking like the embodiment of a penthouse fantasy come to life. Then she yawned heavily, squirming and nestling further into the mattress as she giggled up at the moon through his skylight

Will's lips quirked and he said wryly, "Has anyone told you, Miss Swann, that you positively cannot hold your liqueur?"

She smiled sensuously up at him, that succulent mouth of hers offering a silent invitation he had no will to refuse. He turned away from her, taking another deep breath.

Elizabeth frowned. "Don't be cross with me, Will."

She sounded so sad when she said it that he immediately turned back to her, assuring her he was not. That brought back her smile and she reached out to him, beckoning for him to come to her.

The temptation she offered was almost unbearable, between her bedroom eyes and body language and the pure seduction of her face and form. And, heaven help him, even when drunk half out of her mind he found her completely endearing. He walked cautiously over to the bedside and took her hand.

He looked so adorably wary, she laughed. "No." Pulling on his arm, she clarified, "Come _here_." Her voice low and sultry, she murmured, "Come lie with me."

Will had never had a more compelling offer in his life. She lay there boneless before him, her attention focused solely on him, and he felt himself slipping away into the promise of her sweetness.

She slide over to make room for him and he carefully lay down on the bed beside her. As soon as he was settled she edged back over to him, and he was immediately and fiercely hit by her enticing proximity. Her every word and action throughout the course of the evening had worked him up into a state of rabid sexual frustration, so much so that simply lying here with her now put him right back to the edge of self-control he found himself on when he left the Empress.

"That's better," Elizabeth sighed, her movement reverberating through the mattress. "Don't you feel better?"

"Not particularly," he answered, holding his body taunt next to hers, not daring to touch her even in the slightest.

Elizabeth frowned again. "You _are_ angry with me."

"No, I….I'm not. Elizabeth," Will said weakly, "it's just – "

"Good," she replied happily, taking his hand in hers. "I couldn't stand for you to be angry with me."

Her simple gesture spoke of comfort and affection, and touched him in ways he couldn't begin to define. It also made it necessary to stifle the innate need to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

Elizabeth looked over into Will's eyes and noticed for the first time how dark and intense they'd grown. Through the haze of liquor clouding her mind, she all at once realized their closeness. She rolled over onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow and leaning over him, breathing him in. If she thought the trace of his scent was intoxicating on the pillow, it was nothing in comparison to the real thing.

She studied his features – the slope of his nose, the dark stubble at his jaw, his fathomless chocolate eyes so alive with some unnamable emotion – and she felt her heart flood with love.

Reaching up, she softly swept his hair across his forehead in a touch that went straight to his groin.

Continuing to pet his face, it was more than just Elizabeth's heart, but her body, this time that began to awaken. "_Will_….you…..You're so….."

She trailed off but there was no mistaking her intent. Her tone alone was enough to set his pulse quickening, his stomach tightening, and he couldn't keep the naked lust from his eyes.

"Sometimes," she went on in a low sexy purr, her eyes narrowing, her breath heavy as if she too could not control the feelings overtaking her, "….sometimes I want to – " She broke off, words no longer enough, as she slipped her hand into his open shirt.

Will clenched his teeth. Elizabeth seemed determined to test his self-control – and at a time when it was sorely lacking. She ran her hand over his chest, just a whisper of a touch, and heat fired in his belly. His head fell back and his eyes closed, his body humming. As she continued to stroke him, Will wrestled with his libido, and it took every ounce of his remaining restraint not to react and touch her back.

Then he felt her shapely thigh slid over his.

His eyes shot open. "_Elizabeth_?"

She scooted up until she was lying fully on top of him. His entire body clenched and he made an inarticulate sound, suddenly on fire as the length of her body pressed into his.

Pleasure jolted through her as she settled atop him, all hard male heat, so different from the soft coolness of the mattress. She rubbed her leg against his, her bare skin encountering the cloth of his pants, and the sensation was erotic.

The feel of her clouded his mind, but he knew he was honor bound to stop this. "Elizabeth," Will said shakily, his accent thick in his desire, "what are you doing?"

She set her fingertips to his lips. "Shh," she instructed. "Hold still."

His hands slid to her hips of their own accord, a short shuddery breath escaping him.

Elizabeth felt a heady thrill rush through her at his reaction. She brushed her lips over his once, twice, three times, murmuring, "I want you", and Will felt his resolve begin to crumble. Slowly, torturously she kissed the corners of his mouth before finally pressing her mouth fully to his, her lips warm and hungry.

The urge to kiss her back was undeniable, and his fingers tightly gripped her hips so as to keep from wandering elsewhere. But her mouth continued to coax, her tongue teasing his closed lips until he finally gave in and parted them. With a soft sound of pleasure, she kissed him deeply, with a searing passion, her tongue sliding hotly against his, but the instant he finished fighting his better nature and went for more her lips were gone.

She moved them instead to his jaw, tasting him with her tongue, turning the taste into a kiss. Sliding a little down his body, moving stroking hands along his sides as she did, Elizabeth's mouth glided over his throat, pausing for a moment to suck his Adam's apple. Next, her lips found his neck, exploring over his heated skin.

Will was utterly lost in the feel of her – her body against him; her mouth; her lips, warm and wet – until he felt he might explode from the pleasure of it. She ran her tongue along his collarbone and he moaned deep in his throat, wanting her so badly he was nearly incapacitated by it.

Still, he tried to protest, but it was difficult to form the words. In the end, all he managed was a husky, passion-roughed plea of her name. He desired her with such a ferocity, his body screamed with it. It was all he could do to quell the primitive urge to roll her over and have her here and now.

Elizabeth's tongue made its way back along his collarbone, her open mouth focusing now on the side of his neck. She sucked at his skin then bit him, first softly, then harder. His finger dug into her hips and he groaned. She laved the bite with her tongue, soothing it with a kiss, which led to another kiss, then another, and soon she opened her mouth again, sucking his flesh between her teeth.

Her mouth, teeth, and tongue continued to work their magic, and something about the velvet of her mouth, the warm hunger of her kisses, the soft sounds she made, the heat of her body fitting so perfectly to his – soft where he was hard, her every curve and angle molding just right against him – touched off something inside Will, shattering his resolve and he could no longer help himself; a man could only take so much.

"Elizabeth," he breathed, his voice the height of capitulation and need.

And despite himself he began to touch her, fingers once motionless and gripping turning to soft, smooth caresses. Will slid his hand from her hip down to cup her bottom and he grunted. He felt her kiss him once more, her mouth suckling his skin more softly now. Her teeth scraped across his neck fleetingly, setting him further afire, and then her weight fell heavy upon him.

For a brief instant he didn't understand, too caught up, too engrossed in kneading her soft bottom to register the immediate change, but when she failed to move at all he knew what had happened.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, but received no reply.

She was passed out cold.

In that moment, disappointment warred with relief that at the very least her unconsciousness, if nothing else, had stopped him from taking advantage of her.

Slowly, carefully, he rolled her off of him and onto the bed. She made a soft noise, but didn't awaken.

Will closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment, desperately trying to get a hold of himself but failing. He bolted up from the bed, running an agitated hand through his hair. The pent-up sexual frustration was worse now than ever before as he'd come so close – dangerously close when she wasn't in her right mind – to having her.

Turning, he looked down at Elizabeth. He could still taste her on his lips. What's more, all of the movement had edged her skirt up high enough to reveal the rounded bottom of the soft black lace panties cradling her sex. He had to get out of there. He prided himself on ever being the gentleman, but even gentlemen had their limits and his had already begun to bend. He would protect Elizabeth at all costs, even from his own self. Turning on his heel, he fled the room.

* * *

Twelve long minutes later, when he'd regained the ability to walk again, to think again, to breathe again, to be in the same room with a nearly naked Elizabeth without the risk of doing something they'd both regret, he walked back down the hallway and through his open bedroom door.

Now that he'd taken the time to calm himself, he was wholly grateful that she passed out before anything more could happen between them. He would have hated himself in the morning and, no matter what she said now, he suspected she would have hated him too.

Will found Elizabeth sprawled out on his bed, lightly snoring, her dress now bunched up to her hips. The sight of her that had so tempted and enticed him earlier still heated his blood, but this time warmed his heart and well as his body.

Bending down, he carefully scooped her up into his arms, gently righting her dress. For a moment, he merely cradled her protectively against him, her head pressed to his chest, loving the way it felt simply to hold her, to cherish her. Then, peeling back the covers, he softly laid her back down upon his pillow. She murmured softly and curled up on her side, then stilled once more.

Tucking the covers in around her before straightening, Will looked down at Elizabeth, sleeping like an angel in his bed, and smiled, his heart in his eyes. Reaching over, he tenderly brushed back a tendril of hair that had fallen across her face. And, before leaving her to sleep, safe, sound, and cared for, he bent low and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, his voice raw as he whispered, "I love you." 


	16. The Morning After

~

* * *

Is this the end of the moment

Or just a beautiful unfolding of a love that will never be….or maybe be?

- D. Brown

* * *

Tucked away in bed, little by little, Elizabeth came to awareness – and felt as if she'd been hit by a truck. As her brain gradually registered the pain firing through her joints, she realized she ached just about everywhere. She rolled over onto her back and her head immediately spun, an excruciating drum pounding inside it in rhythm to the beat of her heart. What had happened to her – and would she survive it?

She moaned piteously, wondering why her mouth tasted so awful and her tongue felt like cotton within it. Slowly allowing her eyes to open, she stared at what she could progressively discern was a ceiling, so like her own…..but just a little different. She knew a moment of panicky disorientation. She turned her face on the pillow and her head instantly, painfully protested the movement. When her eyes were able to refocus again, they hit on Will's, looking down at her with a mixture of kindness and concern.

Assuming she was alone, Elizabeth started slightly, the abrupt movement doing nothing to help her predicament. "What – where am I?" she asked.

"In my bedroom. In my bed," he clarified.

She looked at him in confusion, then alarm, as she felt beneath the covers, her hand sliding in relief against the skirt she still wore. She would've wanted to strangle herself if something had finally happened between them and she couldn't even remember…..But what _had_ happened last night?

Will, seeming to have read her mind, provided, "You got drunk last night, really drunk, _crazy_ drunk, especially for a woman who just began drinking at all. Any of this ringing a bell?"

Now that he'd refreshed her groggy mind, she started to dimly recall pieces of the evening on her own. The Empress. Coming on to Will. Failing miserably. What a mistake _that_ had been. Remembering it now, she suddenly felt like throwing up. After that it had been one cocktail after another in a desperate, foolish attempt to numb her hurt and humiliation. But what happened next? She supposed she must have passed out cold and Will had to bring her home for the night. Oh, what must he think of her?

Her cheeks colored a deep red in embarrassment. Feeling mortified and thoroughly rattled all at once, she closed her gritty eyes, as if not seeing Will would make herself invisible to him as well. "I…I shouldn't drink," she said, rubbing a hand over her burning face.

"Maybe not," he answered.

He remembered all too well his first hangover and knew she must be feeling abysmal. Now was not at all the time for romantic thoughts, and yet he couldn't keep them from flooding his heart and mind. From the moment her eyes fluttered open, he was captured by her. She would say she looked awful. He knew she was embarrassed. But all he could think of when he looked at her was how very lovely she was all sleep-warm and rumpled, looking so small and vulnerable, her honey hair fanned across his pillow.

Will watched as Elizabeth attempted to sit up, probably to beat a hasty retreat, but her body rebelled and she flopped back down against the pillow in defeat. She really did feel awful. He drew nearer to the bed and his voice softened as he said, "Here, try this," holding out a glass of ice water.

"Why?" she moaned, her eyes falling closed again. "Nothing will help. Just let me die in peace."

"No, I promise you, you're not going to die. Death might be easier, but you'll survive."

She felt him tenderly run a hand over her hair and, despite her illness, something warmed inside her. He was being awfully sweet to her. It occurred to her now that the water must've been on the night table the entire time, she simply failed to notice. He had anticipated her hangover and even before she was conscious was doing his best to assuage it.

Elizabeth opened her eyes to thank him, but the words lodged in her throat when, more coherent now, she finally realized just what Will was wearing….or _not_ wearing. He had obviously just gotten out of the shower, and was covered in nothing but a white cotton towel cinched low across his hips with another smaller towel slung over his neck to collect the moisture from his hair. He was a mass of bare-chested, broad shouldered goodness, still wet as the occasional drop of water fell to trail over miles of lean hard muscle.

He must have seen something change on her face but, by his chagrined expression, she knew this time his interpretation of her thoughts was way off. "I'm sorry," Will told her. "I thought you'd be dead to the world for at least another hour or two."

"No, no. There's no need. This is your room after all."

He reached over and twisted on the bedside lamp and Elizabeth hissed in a breath, her eyes immediately snapping tightly shut in a defense mechanism against the painful brightness.

Will apologized again. "I'm afraid there's no easy way around it. It's sort of like a cold swimming pool; it's best to just jump in all at once and have it done with. Give your eyes a chance to adjust."

When his advice seemed to be working and it appeared her sensitive eyes would survive the barrage of light, he offered her the glass of water again. "This really will help."

Elizabeth attempted to sit up a second time, whimpering as she edged higher up the pillow, but Will was instantly at her side, his arm around her, helping her to sit up. She felt his heat seep into her as he sat onto the bed beside her, holding her upright. He smelled of some fresh woodsy-citrus scent – a lingering mixture of soap, shampoo, and aftershave – and a natural male scent that was all his own. It was enough to make her want to turn her face in and bury her nose in his neck.

With his free hand, Will put the cold glass into hers, helping it to her parched lips. "There now, honey," he said, with soft soothing encouragement. "Take a good long drink."

Held there in his tender embrace, his gentle words were too much for her, and all at once she felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

He stayed there next to her until half the glass was drained before getting back up to stand beside the bed, his watchful eyes still upon her. Only after he persuaded her to have one more long drink would he take the glass from her hands. As he bent to retrieve the cup and deposit it on the night table, despite how awful she felt, Elizabeth looked on appreciatively, watching his muscles flex and pull as he moved. With his pleasantly defined biceps, firm pecs, cut abs, and allover tan, he looked every inch his studly self this morning, nothing but warm taut skin over hard muscle. Her pulse quickened just taking him it in. He really was too gorgeous for words – and he seemed not to know it, an even more stunning quality.

Elizabeth brought her knees up to her chest and looped her arms around them, feeling suddenly flustered and off-balance, but Will appeared not to notice, or at least was kind enough to pretend not to.

Absently picking at the coverlet, she quietly told him, "I'm sorry I was such a burden to you last night." A strange look crossed his face at that – probably remembering something humiliating she'd done the night before – and so she hurried on awkwardly, "And this morning too."

"You're not exactly what I'd call a burden, Elizabeth, not this morning….." Something indefinable crossed his face. "…..or last night."

Will looked down at her, warm and soft beneath his covers, and saw forever. This is how it could be every morning, only with no hangover leaving dark lines beneath her heavy eyes…..and he would be in the bed beside her, kissing her awake.

"Well thank you, but I don't believe it," Elizabeth said in lingering embarrassment. "And on that note, I guess I should probably get going." She made a move to pull back the covers, but he stopped her, holding them in place.

"No," he shook his head. "You're in no shape to eat breakfast alone."

She groaned at the suggestion. "I'm in no shape to eat breakfast period."

"You'll change your mind when you see what I make you." She shot him a look of doubt, but he continued, "Seriously, stay here. At least until you've had a chance to shower and eat something. You'll feel much better afterwards. I promise."

Without giving her a chance to argue, Will disappeared into the bathroom, calling back, "There are plenty of clean, fresh towels for you. And here," he said, appearing in the doorway, a dark dressing gown in his hand, "you can wear my robe. As you can see," he smiled, "I've forgone it this morning."

She could certainly see that. She watched the sinew ripple in his bare upper body as he walked across the room to place the robe at the foot of the bed. He was all virile maleness, sinfully attractive at that, and she felt hot yearning rising inside her.

Will stood at the edge of the bed gazing down at Elizabeth. She looked so adorably slumberous and unsure sitting there beneath his sheets that emotions tugged at his heart. He knew how she must be suffering, though she was too proud to fully admit it. He knew she wanted her independence, but at the same time she was so precious to him he wanted to hold her in his arms and protect her from anything that might be hurting her – rum now included.

He gave her a warm, intimate smile. "It's alright to lean on me this once, Elizabeth," he said with aching tenderness. "I promise not to think any less of you."

"The trouble is, I've leaned on you far too much already," she sighed, silently adding, _The trouble is I never want to stop_. "But better you than rum. You're not nearly as dangerous."

He put on a playfully menacing glare. "Aren't I?" he teased, thoroughly surprised when she quietly answered, "Well….at least in different ways."

Will looked at her with barely contained amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and her heart lost its beat. "You're not afraid of me, are you, Elizabeth?"

'Fear' was not one of the emotions she would assign to Will, though there were plenty of others she'd be just as ashamed to admit.

"A charming man who offers me a hot shower, a warm robe, and a hangover remedy besides? How could I be?"

He reached out and softly ran his hand over her hair again. "Just let me finish up in here and it's all yours," he said, walking into the bathroom and gently shutting the door behind him.

After checking to make sure he really couldn't see her, she turned her nose into the pillow, as she'd wanted to do to Will, and took a deep breath, sighing dreamily. It smelled just like him; in a word, incredible. She slumped back down to lie against the mattress, reveling in his scent on the sheets and pillows, already feeling mysteriously better.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth stood naked in Will's shower, the hot water sluicing over her aching muscles. It was funny how a few simple drinks could so devastate her body. Now knowing firsthand the effects of overindulgence, she was determined never to do so again…Not when there were other things to indulge in that could make her feel just as good – she suspected far better – both during and especially afterwards. Her mind conjured up the image of Will standing at the bedside draped in nothing but a loose towel, speaking to her in that deep easy voice, and she smiled.

Reaching for his shampoo, she lathered it into her hair, knowing now that the scent of him would linger on her all day long. It made her feel curiously branded, the last sort of feeling someone like her should enjoy, but remarkably she loved it. It gave her an intriguing sort of thrill, smelling of him, as if he had kissed her, rubbed against her, made love to her – as if she belonged to him.

When her hair was finished, she uncapped the bottle of his body wash, holding it to her nose, and was hit with a flash of desire. It smelled even more like him than the shampoo. She poured some out onto the loofah, giving it a firm squeeze to encourage sudsing, and the shower stall was filled with the heavenly fragrance. Surrounded by his scent, she ran the loofah over her skin, arching her back and wriggling to reach all of her curves.

Closing her eyes, she wondered what it would be like to have Will touching her and not the sponge, and a sigh escaped her lips. She canted her hip to the side, drawing the loofah over her thigh, and was hit with a weird sort of déjà vu, the imaging so vivid now she could almost see it…._Enveloped in Will's scent, moving this way together, rhythmically_…._suggestively_…..But no, this wasn't just a fantasy. It was more real than that…..No…..she wasn't imagining at all – but _remembering_.

Her eyes popped open. "I danced with Will," she gasped, so surprised the words came out aloud. A memory instantly jolted Elizabeth: she was pressed tightly against Will, his warm hands sliding over her hips as they swayed in a provocative dance, her head back, fingers fisted into his hair, while his hot breath teased her throat. "_How_ we danced." To say they'd burned up the dance floor would be an understatement. She remembered moves just this side of legal. He hadn't rejected her so completely after all then. Interesting….very interesting….

Finishing her shower, she quickly toweled over and donned his soft black terrycloth robe, wrapping it around her and securing the belt, feeling surrounded by him, the next best thing to being in his arms.

Walking into his empty bedroom, the door now closed tight, she discovered an aspirin bottle and a fresh glass of orange juice on the night table with a sign that read: 'Drink me'. Laughing, she sank down onto the bed, following his instructions. Her headache really was better than it had been, still a throb in the back of her skull but not the sickening pounding that earlier threatened to bring up the remnants of whatever still lie in her stomach.

Through all of this, Will had been so good to her, treating her with a patience and sweet tenderness that she didn't deserve. Though the events of the night before were still hazy in her mind, particularly the later half of the evening, she had a distinct memory of him warning her several times not to drink so much. Elizabeth knew very well that her current state was no one's fault but her own, and still Will was so kind, not offering a single word of gloating or reproach.

After drinking most of the juice without her stomach rebelling too badly, Elizabeth padded barefoot down the hallway in search of Will, finally finding him in the kitchen, setting out their breakfast.

Hearing her footsteps, his attention still on the table, he gently asked, "Are you feeling any better?" Turning, his eyes widened into what could only be described as a stare.

Will stood there, taking in Elizabeth – her expression still sleepy, her hair tousled, wearing only his robe – and his heart caught in his throat at the sight. Then his eyes slid over her body, giving her a quick onceover, and a whole lot more than his heart jumped to attention.

"I – I am," she answered softly, feeling suddenly fidgety and anxious beneath his gaze in a way that was still new, though not unpleasant. "Except I seem to have a new bruise that I don't quite recall," she added self-deprecatingly, peeling back the robe to reveal the bluish contusion on her shin.

"Yes. That would be when you tripped up the stairs," he grinned.

Elizabeth watched the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimple make a flickering appearance in a way they only did when he smiled with real and true amusement, the way he was now. The effect was so disarming she couldn't help but smile back.

Will dizzily absorbed the smile that turned him inside out. Gazing into her eyes evoked the now remembered feel of her body against his and the soft moist heat of her mouth on his skin. Something in the back of his mind warned that this could still never happen between them but, drunk or not, he was emboldened by her actions the night before and stepped even closer until they were near enough to touch.

Reaching up, he lifted her still-wet hair out of his robe in a gesture that touched her heart and warmed her body all at once. "Thank you," she murmured. She thought he would move away afterwards, but he didn't. Instead, his dark chocolate eyes holding hers, he slid his hands from her hair to her shoulders and she felt her pulse pick up.

"I like you like this," he told her, his voice caressing. "All soft and warm and damp, wearing nothing but my robe.

Will gave her a look that curled her toes, then without another word went back to setting the table, leaving Elizabeth hot, bothered, and dazed in his wake.

Blinking, she jarred her mind into action, joining him at the table and sitting where he'd indicated, in the chair that had a cold freshly opened sports drink set out before it.

When she looked at him in question at his odd choice in morning beverage, he explained, "The electrolytes will help you feel better."

"So you have a lot of experience with this then?"

"Sure, a time or two, but you can't be friends with Jack Sparrow as long as I have without becoming an expert on good hangover remedies," he dryly replied.

She laughed, then at Will's insistence began picking at the meal he put before her. At first she had to force it down, but halfway through she started to genuinely enjoy the taste of the food. More than just the food, she enjoyed being there with Will, in a cozy and warm, comfortable intimacy. She was already inexorably drawn to him in a way that proved impossible to fight, and now throughout the course of the morning it was clear that she'd bonded with him even further. And how could she not? The first thing anyone noticed about Will was the remarkable outer package, understandably so, but the more she knew him the more she discovered his truest beauty lie inside, evidenced in the sort of sweet, considerate, thoughtfulness with which he was treating her today. At times like these, it seemed inconceivable to her to imagine a future for herself without him in it.

Will was lost in similar thoughts of his own, caught up in how unwaveringly lovely Elizabeth was whether the determined fencer, the seductive inebriated temptress, or the soft and vulnerable woman as she was now. There was such a tellingly shocking contrast from the edgy emptiness he felt while landing the biggest account of his life – an event that should have left him thrumming with excitement – and the quiet thrill he found now in sharing a simple meal with Elizabeth, an occasion that should've seemed comparatively mundane. The difference brought things into extremely sharp focus. He wanted – was fairly certain he _needed _– Elizabeth in his life and, improbable though the odds may be, it was about time he started taking steps to try to make that happen.

Elizabeth couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but she noticed the atmosphere take a gradual, though decided, turn. A companionable tea and toast was suddenly overtaken by the palpable, undeniable sexual tension charging between them. The slightest contact, the merest whisper of an innocent touch across the table sent a shiver through her and, at least on this occasion, she felt certain Will was to blame. There was something different about him today. He was the same, and yet there was a new kind of sparkle in his eyes, a new air of assurance that was as appealing as it was compelling. Before Will's flirtations with her had been here and there, occasionally more brazen, but for the most part sporadic and subtle enough to keep her guessing. But now….now he was an open book – and that book seemed to read, _Will Turner wants Elizabeth Swann_.

It was difficult to remain unaffected beneath the onslaught of his flirtatious words and heated looks. He was charming and attractive, his thick dark hair still retaining its dampness and curling riotously about his face. Though he'd covered his edible body with a snug shirt, the image of it hard and bare remained burned on her mind. All things considered he was positively delicious, and she wasn't sure how it had happened or who made the first move, but soon their chairs ended up pushed so closely together their legs touched beneath the table.

Will watched Elizabeth recognize their sudden nearness and, to put her at ease, reached over and served them each one of the hot cinnamon rolls he'd made for her. He confessed they were of the simple store bought variety and his efforts had been nothing more than baking the premade contents of a refrigerated tube, but nevertheless she called the gesture sweet and gave him a smile that made him feel anything but.

Elizabeth took a bite out of hers, and though its buttery icing made her mouth water, her focus was more closely fixed on what Will's mouth was doing. She watched him lick the side of the roll in an unknowingly enticing manner and felt her mouth water anew. His hair was falling silkily over his forehead when he finally took his first bite of the pastry, and she itched to brush it back, ached to simply touch him.

Will glanced over and saw Elizabeth gazing up at him through her lashes with an unmistakable look in her eyes that just like that made him burn for her in a way that was entirely inappropriate at the breakfast table.

The way she was looking at him now, he slowly began to wonder, was it _so_ impossible for them? Did it really have to be? Having that intense yearning in her eyes focused and directed at _him_ was something he'd once thought impossible, but yet here he was watching her stare at him, her eyes undeniably awash in just that very emotion.

He now knew unquestionably that she wanted him; she'd told him as much. She may be hung-over, but she was lucid and aware, the one thing that had been missing last night, the _only_ thing that kept him from taking her up on all that she'd offered him…..But there was no such barrier now.

Will moved his hand to cup the side of Elizabeth's neck, rubbing slow circles into her soft skin with his thumb. He watched the lids of her eyes waver and grow heavy at his touch – a good sign – and so he continued. He was in the process of sliding his fingers up into hair when he noticed her attention riveted to his mouth – an excellent sign – and if she was content to skip the preliminaries so was he.

He was about to go in for a kiss, when she abruptly said, "You have something….there." When his overheated brain did not immediately compute, she added, "Icing, there, on your lip."

Elizabeth reached up and touched her forefinger to the corner of Will's mouth, running it across his lower lip to wipe away the errant icing. Her intent had been innocent enough, but her touch set off something in him, and before she could move it away he kissed the pad of her finger, then drew it into his mouth, making her breath catch.

His eyes locked on hers, he gently sucked her finger, and a fire ignited deep inside of her. His eyes still arrested on hers, watching her every expression, he curled his tongue around her soft finger, enjoying the taste of the sweet icing and the flavor that was all her own. She whimpered slightly as his tongue stroked her skin. He could see the change in her breathing, grown quick and shallow, and though she may not have realized it, she leaned in towards him. Her reaction to him made him hotter than anything else she might have done. She'd gone soft and willing, and he wanted her more than he thought possible.

Will released her finger on a shuddering sigh, and Elizabeth bit her lip, wondering what it would feel like to have _his_ teeth do the same. She looked into his eyes, so dark and glimmering, for a second more before her gaze dropped back to his mouth. Her forefinger still resting there, she brought another up to slowly trace the outline of his lips, but that too wasn't enough. She skimmed her fingers along the side of his jaw, then down his neck to softly stroke his nape. All at once, she wanted him touching her, kissing her, loving her, and even here on the kitchen table would do.

Her fingers wandered into his hair, and Will's heart hammered, every last inch of him responding to her touch. Elizabeth brought her free hand up into his curls, inching just a little closer as she slid the fingers of the other hand back down his neck toward his shoulder. In the process, his collar pulled apart, and her eyes, once hooded with desire, grew wide. She pulled her hands away from him so fast it was as if she'd been burned, which in a way she had.

"Elizabeth?" he asked in confusion. He'd thought they were only just getting started and was clueless as to why she'd called a sudden halt to things. "What is it?"

"You, um….have….there." She indicated the base of his neck this time. "I guess you have all sorts of marks on you this morning," she said, giving a mirthless laugh. "Only I'm afraid this one I won't be able to so easily brush away." _The understatement of the century_, she thought ironically.

Still baffled, Will looked down, unable to find anything amiss. Finally he caught enough of his reflection in the stainless steel teapot to glimpse the blood-dark splotch left there the night before, curtsy of Elizabeth. He'd noticed the love bite that morning while shaving, and it had unspeakably turned him on, but he'd honestly forgotten about it until now. He opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off.

"Well I guess I'd better clear out. I wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong impression about the two of us and….and spoil….'something' for you."

Her words were laced with anger, but underneath the piqued bluster he detected a distinct note of hurt, which encouraged him immensely.

"_Who_ might get the wrong idea?" Will asked her. He'd set her straight soon enough, but in the meantime he was curious to know just who exactly she thought was responsible for the mark – and when she figured he had time to pick up other women when he spent every waking moment with her. Then again, jealousy often defied reason. Elizabeth jealous, another thought that encouraged him.

"Your girlfriend," she answered testily.

Yep. She was definitely jealous. The knowledge sent a pleasant tingle through him. "I don't have one," was his simple reply.

"Fine then. The woman who gave _that_," she pointed to the mark as if in great offense, "to you."

Will smiled faintly. "She was fantastic, really. The things she did…..Mmm…." He trailed off, shaking his head in wonder. "She made me feel – "

"I _don't_ need to hear about this," Elizabeth said with a touch of desperation.

"Why not? She was amazing. Her name was – "

"And I really don't want to hear her name."

Carefully watching for her reaction, a ghost of a smile still on his lips, he told her the simple truth. "It was you."

"_What_?"

"The hickey," he said, deriving great pleasure from this. "_You_ gave it to me, last night."

She shot him an eloquently disbelieving look. She was still remembering the night before in bits and pieces but she clearly recalled walking away after dancing with him, and exiting the club alone. "_No_…..Last night, we danced…." His brow shot up, pleased that she recalled at least that. "We _danced_, only," she went on, "and then I left you." Her eyes darted off to the side, deep in thought. "On a barstool, as I remember."

"Yes, a barstool was definitely involved," he smirked. "But then I walked you home."

She was about to argue the point when she had a sudden flash of kicking up sand and twirling around on the beach, just off the regular footpath. "I wanted to walk in the sand," she said blankly, recalling.

"Yes. And then you wanted to go in the pool." A little wrinkle of consternation formed between her brows, prompting Will to further explain, "You were drunk. You'd already fallen – evidenced by the nasty little bruise on your shin. I didn't trust you to be alone, so I brought you back here. Then you said you were tired…..and you stretched out on my bed and asked me to come lie with you."

Another memory jolted her, the very clear image of her wriggling on his bed, beckoning him to her. He was right. He was telling the truth.

"Oh," Elizabeth exclaimed in embarrassment.

Another memory rose up, this one of her and Will lying on the bed together, she leaning over him, slipping her hand into his shirt.

"Oh," she gasped, her eyes wide, her voice steeped in shock.

Will watched as Elizabeth remembered further and, judging by the look on her face, it was the more interesting portion of the evening.

This last burst of memory played across her mind in an agonizingly slow manner, teasing her with every last tantalizing detail. _She was lying on top of him, biting his neck as his hands gripped her hips. The feel of him was so –_

"_Ohh_," she sighed deeply, and there was no mistaking the excitement in her tone.

Yanked back into reality, Elizabeth opened the eyes she didn't even realize had fallen closed. She met Will's gaze, and hers was hot with memories of the night before, instantly inflaming him.

"Yes, I….It _was_ me. I did – I mean, I guess I am the one….."

The images continued to bombard her, filling in the details. She had come on to him, again. She'd climbed on top of him, offering – well they both knew what she was offering. She literally threw herself on him and yet he didn't take advantage of her. She felt a surge of love for him at the thought, but it did little to dispel the awkwardness of explaining her actions.

Should she, _could_ she, tell him the truth now – that it was _him_ she wanted, _him_ she had fallen for? She knew that Will was attracted to her; she'd had enough proof of that. But this was the man who by his own admission had never been in a real relationship, who slept with a woman once and then had nothing more to do with her. She wanted, needed, something more lasting, something by all indications he could not give her. And so she lied.

"I, ah…..I guess I must have thought you were James," she said hesitantly.

It was a feeble excuse, one Will knew was a lie, both from the look in her eyes now and from the fact that she had called him by name just before easing onto his body and sliding her tongue into his mouth.

His eyes snared hers when she tried to look away, wordlessly asking her – challenging her – to tell the truth.

"I….I suppose I really shouldn't drink that much."

So there'd be no relenting then. "Yes, I suppose you've had far too much when you start confusing men."

She saw the resentment in his eyes and stopped just short of wincing. She couldn't do this, couldn't handle this. It was too complicated, too uncomfortable, too emotional. So, as she always did in such moments, she attempted to run.

"I should go," she quietly said and Will was suddenly flooded with the sensation of losing someone he'd never truly had. She turned back toward the hallway, presumably to collect her clothes, but he caught her shoulders, holding her in place close to him.

"Stay," he asked. "Stay with me today. You're sober now. There'll be no more mistaking."

Attraction curled between them, and the way he said the words, the dangerous sort of look he gave her while saying them, she couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat.

This whole day, from the moment she woke up feeling like she was about to die, it all had been too much, too confusing, too poignant, too overwhelming. She didn't know what to do, what to think anymore…..and her head still hurt.

Something softened in Will's face and he reached out, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "You're still not feeling one hundred percent. Let me take care of you." She hung on the edge, uncertain what to do, until with one touch he cinched it, bringing his hand up to sweep along her cheek so tenderly it sent a shiver through her. "Let me pamper you. Let me make you feel better," he softly whispered, his hot, dark eyes riveting her.

Maybe she could, for a while. She was already falling hopelessly, helpless. What was one more little tumble? "Alright."

* * *

As with all of his promises, Will made good on his vow to pamper Elizabeth. The late afternoon found them both relaxing poolside, Elizabeth stretched out on the heavenly soft cushions of one of the lounging deck chairs and Will perched on its end, massaging her bare feet.

He'd been attentive and considerate the entire day, seeing to and often anticipating her every need since she'd woken up. This was just the sort of surface indulgence she'd grown weary of back in her country; she was perfectly capable of dressing herself without the outfits being set out for her in advance, thank you very much, and the world wouldn't end if she swam at the beach unattended or, heaven forbid, prepared her own meal. But on the odd occasion, such as today, when she'd been feeling so ill, and when _Will_ was the one doing the pampering, it was altogether different. She felt lazy – and she had been, she was still wearing his robe after all – but contented beneath the warm fragrant breeze, with each soft stroke of his hand across her foot causing her insides to further liquefy.

Will's gaze took a slow trip over Elizabeth's reclined form, pausing at all the good spots, before landing on her closed eyes. His thumb moved in a kneading circle at her heel, then he gently increased the pressure as he spread his fingers to the arch of her foot, and she sighed. How pathetic was he to be turned on by a simple foot massage? Maybe he just liked touching her. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was nude beneath the robe, and with her leg raised the way it was the fabric parted above her knee to reveal just enough soft bare flesh to keep his body humming.

His hand strayed to her ankle and a soft little sound escaped her similar to the ones she'd made while hungrily marking him the night before. He felt himself stir in response and hated that she'd denied what they shared. He knew that she remembered what had happened, knew that _she_ knew she'd been perfectly aware of just exactly who was in that bed with her. He unconsciously deepened his touch and she sighed again. He vowed in that moment that if it killed him one day he would make her call out his name in passion, make her admit it was _him_ that she desired and not Jim, _him_ that she wanted to kiss and bite and press against…..But he felt a bit of his male bravado slip when he realized, as much as he wanted all that, what he really longed for more than his next breath was for Elizabeth to love him half as much as he loved her.

Elizabeth sat up on her elbows, her eyes opening to study Will as he continued rubbing her foot. His touch was rapidly making her feel anything but relaxed. How sad was it when a simple pass of his fingers over the tops of her toes roused her in a way James's best kisses never had? Her mind recalled the words she'd once spoken to Will after finding out he was a swordsmith on top of all else, and she repeated them aloud. "You're very talented with your hands."

That day at the smithy, she hadn't intended it as a double entendre, but this time she meant every bit of the innuendo. What she hadn't meant was for the words to come out as a breathy whisper.

He gave her a slow melting grin, and in a heartbeat she felt that familiar rush between them.

"Just try me," he said in a husky timbre that matched her own. "I've only begun to show you."

She'd just bet he was all sorts of talented. She'd gone quivery inside at just the thought. Giving him a deliberately seductive smile, she told him, "I wouldn't be a bit a surprised."

He shot her a look that sent heat curling through her body as he rested her foot down against his thigh, his hand resting possessively atop it, one thumb continuing to softly stroke her.

How had they ended up here again, Elizabeth wondered, back to nearly devouring one another? This sort of flirtation was dangerous, though it _had_ made her forget her lingering headache. But it wouldn't do to sort this all out now when she wasn't quite herself. And it was too difficult to think properly when he looked at her that way. Still, even under the effects of what Jack had jokingly called the 'Irish Flu' when he'd passed by earlier, Elizabeth knew this couldn't be a good idea. She was just determining how foolish it would be to enter into a purely physical affair when Will interrupted her thoughts.

"You surprise me," he said with a teasingly arrogant tone that made her wonder what he'd said before that she'd missed while caught up in her lust.

"Oh, really? And why is that?"

He laughed at the sassy expression on her face. "I only meant that I hadn't expected you to be such a capable fighter, even without a sword."

His words set off another flood of forgotten memories – this one a maelstrom – as she was bombarded with recollections of Murtogg and Mullroy finding her, trying to force her to leave with them, then she and Will ultimately knocking the pair unconscious. And suddenly she knew she had a whole lot more to worry about than just a simple hangover. 


	17. The Loudness of Silence

~

* * *

Is this a natural feeling or is it just me bleeding all my thoughts and dreams

In hopes that you will be with me?

- D. Brown

* * *

The following afternoon Elizabeth walked with Will in the bright warm sunshine across the main property of the Black Pearl. She'd taken it easy the entire day before, allowing him to take care of her as he'd wanted while she worked off the aftereffects of an ill-advised night of binge drinking. But today was going to be different. She wanted to do something productive – at the very least not lazy – and so Will had suggested taking her out again on the _Dutchman_. First, however, they were to eat lunch. He had wanted an intimate one, prepared himself back at his cabana, but she'd balked at the suggestion, instead proposing they met Jack and Anna at the Dauntless. He'd agreed though he didn't seem all too thrilled with the idea. He easily recognized their friends as the buffer she clearly wanted them to be, but she couldn't help it. She needed someone else present if for nothing else than to keep her from jumping Will at the lunch table. Of course she'd be on her own once they were alone out on the ocean, but maybe by them some of the hormones set atingle after seeing him looking so breathtaking on her doorstep this morning would have worn off.

As for the other, Murtogg and Mullroy's sudden appearance, Elizabeth determined to go on as if it never happened. She'd seriously considered and come very close to confessing to Will the day before that her past was catching up to her, but in the end she decided to keep on pretending – pretending everything would be alright, pretending she could have a normal life, pretending things could go on indefinitely as before. It wasn't complete denial. There was some logic in there too. After Will mentioned the bar fight she'd gone as white as a ghost. He mistook her shock for fear that her 'assailants' would come back. That's when, assuming that like with their bedroom antics she'd temporarily forgotten, he'd reminded her of how Jack had taken care of the men, throwing them off property with strict orders to security never to allow them back on the premises; here at the Pearl, it wasn't taken lightly when men sexually harassed a woman and tried to force her back to their room. Elizabeth did nothing to correct the misconception. It seemed best not to. Likewise, it seemed as if she'd be safe…..for the time. She knew deep down that now that they'd found her, made contact even, things wouldn't be so simple. When Murtogg and Mullroy failed, her father would simply send better agents, someone like Gilette, someone who wouldn't give up until he had came for: her. But she wouldn't think about that, _couldn't_ think about that, not yet. She had the here and now and that was all she was going to focus on.

Will held the door open for Elizabeth as they finally reached the lobby, waiting while she entered the building first. She looked beautiful today with every last trace of her hangover gone, leaving her fresh, bright-eyed, and completely dazzling. She wasn't nearly as informal as the day before when she'd been barefoot with damp hair, wearing nothing but his robe – something that had an appeal all its own, not just because of the near nudity but because it was a side of her very few were treated to. But this put together version of Elizabeth was stunning in its own way. Her hair was loosely pulled up into some sort of a causal, carefree style he wouldn't even presume to put a name to, but the way it was pinned up with loose tendrils falling here and there was both attractive and tantalizing, making him want to reach out and twist the fallen hair about his finger…. or better yet run his mouth along the tender skin of her neck and throat that were left exposed.

And she was wearing those short shorts again, this particular pair black, leaving miles of long, toned bare legs on display – and how he loved her legs. She'd finished the outfit off with a short sleeved black silk top that just begged to be touched, and he could imagine all too well the feel of her body draped in supple silk beneath his hands. It was amazing what one little garment could do. The delicate silver floral pattern in the shirt lent Elizabeth the air of soft femininity while the dip of the vee at the neckline and the fitted nature of the top provided an undeniably sexy appeal. That along with the shirt's contrasting silk tie that nipped in right below her bosom, guaranteeing to draw his eyes there, made for one powerful combination of innocence blended with wickedness. The last thing he wanted to do with Elizabeth dressed in an outfit like that was share her with Jack and Anna, but she insisted on keeping these walls up between them, leaving it up to him to find a way inside. But _was_ there a way, or were her walls impenetrable?

Elizabeth was clueless to Will's thoughts, both amorous and otherwise, too busy searching the room for Anna. Smiling when she spotted her, she redirected their path. "There's Anna at the front desk," she told Will. "And I'll bet Jack is in his office just beyond." When she'd first wanted to change their plans, Will had expressed some doubt that they could quickly locate the pair, a diversionary tactic she suspected. "You see, we found them easily. We can all four have lunch in….."

Her words petered out when she turned around and caught a glimpse of Will's expression. His handsome face was drawn down into the nearest thing to a pout she'd ever seen on him – and the sexiest at that. "Don't worry," she grinned, "I won't let Jack tease us too badly." She reached up and ran her finger playfully down Will's chin along his goatee, laughing in a soft little way that revved his engine more than he cared to admit, particularly at a moment such as this.

Elizabeth smiled, both at his sexy little unintentional pout and at his failed attempt at nonchalance now. It really was rather adorable how he wanted it to be just the two of them together all day, even if she did suspect it was for less than innocent purposes. A memory from the day before at breakfast when he'd sucked the icing from her hand, suggestively curling his tongue around her finger, crept unbidden to her mind. She didn't know just exactly what she was promising, but before she could stop herself she added, "Lunch will be quick and then….we can be alone."

Will's eyes heated and he smiled. "That sounds like a perfect plan."

She took his hand and led him onward, still smiling despite the fact she was fairly certain she'd just invited something terribly dangerous. That's when she saw them, just around the bend. She had no idea how they'd managed it, but there was no mistaking them. Murtogg and Mullroy were in the front lobby, coming her way.

Reacting on adrenaline and instinct alone, she plastered herself to the wall, clutching Will and yanking him to her as a sort of a human shield. She vaguely registered him calling her name in confusion but her mind was too absorbed with finding a place to hide. They were almost to the front desk and the safety of Jack's office just beyond. But it was still too far, the floor plan of the lobby too open for them to go unnoticed – and Murtogg and Mullroy were now rounding the corner. She'd be discovered in a matter of seconds.

Spying a door just to their left, in desperation she reached out her arm and tried the handle. When the door gave way, Elizabeth tore inside, grabbing Will's hand and tugging him in after her as she pulled the door shut behind them.

They were immediately plunged into darkness, pressed close together in the bowels of the tiny room.

Will stood stunned for a moment before finally regaining his voice. "Elizabeth?"

"Shh," she warned him.

"Elizabeth," he repeated, this time in a whisper. "What are we doing?"

Ignoring his question, she asked one of her own. "What is this room? Is there another way out?"

Though her eyes were gradually adjusting to the darkness, she still couldn't see the strange look Will gave her. "No. This is a storage closet. The only way out is the door we just came through."

She felt him moving, but by the time she registered he was reaching for the doorknob she had only enough time to loudly whisper, "No!"

Miraculously the darkness remained about them. Through the quiet, Elizabeth heard his softly muttered oath.

"I forgot," he told her. "You always have to prop this door open. It locks from the outside."

"You mean – "

"Yep. We're locked in."

Silence was the only reply he received.

"Thankfully," Will went on, still whispering though he didn't know why, "I've been in here enough to know the general layout. Lucky for us both, this is where we keep storm supplies. Most of the guestrooms have a backup generator but, other than the essentials needed to keep the main computer running, the lobby doesn't. There should be matches and candles on the far wall. If I can just scoot past you…."

In the limited space, he attempted to do just that. When his reaching hand encountered her thigh, his arm briefly brushing across her breast, he felt a thrill shoot through him, enjoying their forced captivity more and more.

Several titillating moments later, he finally made it past her. She heard him fumbling around in the darkness for a bit then, without warning, she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, making her shiver. Elizabeth didn't know if it was the adrenaline, the continued danger of discovery, simply their closeness, or a combination of the above but she suddenly felt far more excited than was called for….or good.

"I found the candles easily enough. It was the matches that were the real trick," he said, just as she heard him strike one and the tiny spark flickered to life.

He set the fire to the wick of the fat pillar candle she now could see he held in his free hand. The flame dimly illuminated their surroundings enough for Elizabeth to make out the closet they were in was about two feet wide by four feet deep, with a shelving unit along all three walls, taking up a significant portion of that space – and they were stuck for the duration….not necessarily a bad thing considering what was waiting outside for her.

In the dancing candlelight, she saw Will grin widely as he edged closer to her. "Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?" he asked. "Or were you just extra eager to be alone with me as soon as possible?" He shot her a hot and intimate look, his mouth kicking up on one side, sending sensual flutters rocketing through her.

_Elizabeth, stop it_, she chastised herself. _Your whole world is falling apart. This is no time to be feeling amorous_. But her inner pleadings were to no avail.

Here in the closed in, strangely romantic atmosphere, his scent surrounded her, encouraging her eyes to take a slow trail of his body, from his low-slung pants to the soft cotton shirt hugging his pecs. He was positively scrumptious and, despite the inappropriateness of it, all she could think of was reaching out and touching him, kissing him. She gave herself a little shake.

Inwardly, Will did the same. As enticing as it was to fall into the seduction his body craved here in the dark close quarters of the storage closet, he forced his mind from thoughts of his hands on her body, or how soft her hair was and how perfect his fingers would feel tunneling through it. He couldn't allow himself to gloss over the look of terror he'd seen cross her face just before she'd pulled him inside the closet. Nor could he overlook the fact that she was still so clearly on edge.

He brought the flame close to her, his eyes scanning her face. "Elizabeth, tell me. What's going on?"

He looked across the candle at her with expectant eyes. Though she knew there would be no way around telling him the truth, she tried stalling anyway, pretending for a little while longer that they were just two carefree almost-lovers playing a game of flirtation in a closet.

"Nothing," she answered breezily.

"I saw the look on your face. I saw how afraid you were. That wasn't nothing."

"No, that – that wasn't fear," she attempted. "Like you said, I just _really_ wanted to get you alone….right now."

She slide a glance his way to see if he was buying it, which he wasn't. He looked down at her skeptically and even that, on Will, made her blood run hot.

Elizabeth sidled a bit nearer to him. "So, here we are. Now what to do with you…." She noted with some dismay that the breathy tone she was trying to affect came shamefully easily.

Will pivoted at the waist to set the candle on a nearby empty shelf, high enough so that he could still read her face in the dancing light. "Elizabeth," he said in a tone that let her know he would not be distracted.

"Alright," she capitulated with a sigh. "That wasn't the reason." But she wasn't forthcoming about what was, and a long silence stretched between them.

He studied her, shifting infinitesimally closer. "Elizabeth," he tenderly uttered, "you can tell me."

And in that moment she knew she could. He had such a kind, loyal heart and he'd proven to be fiercely protective of her. If there was anyone she could trust with the knowledge she was being actively pursued and in fact had now been found, it was Will.

Taking a deep breath, she finally told him the truth. "Those men, the ones from the Empress, they were here just now, in the lobby."

His eyes hardened and he turned toward the door, seemingly ready to knock it down to get to them. "Where were they? I'll – "

"But it's not as it seems," Elizabeth warned. "They weren't trying to pick me up that night, not the way you think." Her voice penetrated his protective rage and he turned back to her with questioning eyes. "They work for the government, _my_ government," she clarified and witnessed the moment the significance of it sank in for him. "They're two of my father's agents. They came to find me. They wanted to take me with them that night and I….I didn't want to go. I was drunk or I might've explained things to you then but….I don't know," she shrugged, knowing the explanation was insufficient. "Then we started dancing and….well, you know the rest. Then I'd forgotten until you mentioned it yesterday."

She waited for his reaction, perhaps an angry questioning of why she hadn't told him when he'd first reminded her; it certainly would've been justified. But instead his gaze was soft and warm on hers as he laid a supportive hand on her arm.

"Okay. It's going to be alright," he assured her.

Truthfully, Will didn't know what to think. Elizabeth had hoped to avoid her father and anyone connected with her country in order to have a respite, a break, a chance to be herself. That's why she'd come here to begin with. But now that they'd found her, the jig was sort of up, wasn't it? It would mean the end of all of this, the end for them. Though it tore at his heart, he wouldn't blame her. It was only meant to be temporary from the start…..But then why were they cowering in a closet?

Leading her over to the side of the room, close to the shelf holding their lone source of light, Will guided her down onto the top of an overturned bucket. He found its twin across the closet and set it before hers, between Elizabeth and the door, then sat down as well. Now that he had her at ease and somewhat comfortable the difficult part would begin. He could see that she wanted to avoid it, but they would have to talk about what this all meant – and what she planned to do now.

"So, just to be clear then, we're in here now because….because you're not ready to be found….yet?"

Elizabeth swallowed heavily. The truth was she wasn't ready to be found ever. The life she'd led before she came to the island seemed like it wasn't even real now, like it had all happened to someone else. She never fit into that life before and she certainly never could now, not after she'd had a taste of something so sweet. But could she tell Will the truth, that she was hiding terrified of discovery because she didn't want to leave _him_, because she was desperately hopelessly in love with him?

She knew that Will wanted her – he no longer even tried to hide it – and maybe even it was possible that he had feelings for her on _some_ level. It _could_ be. Anna seemed to think so, maybe Jack too. But all they'd really mentioned was that he seemed to be more interested in her than he had been in any other woman before. That was promising, but considering his track record with women, it wasn't really saying all that much. She had to be careful not to read too much into Will's behavior. She couldn't project _her_ hopes, _her_ dreams, _hers_ wishes for the future on him. Just because she loved him and wanted forever didn't mean that he did in return. So far the most she seemed to have gotten out of him was an apparent willingness to enter into a physical relationship with her. He desired her, he even valued her friendship, but was he willing to try at something more? He'd never breathed a word to her to suggest he was.

If she were to sever her ties to James, to publically go against her father's wishes and that of her country, there would be a heavy price to pay. Frankly it would be nothing short of a mess. But it would be worth it, unquestionably worth it, if in the end she was granted the life and love she dreamed of. But it would be awful, just too horrible to go through all that, facing her father and the rest of the powers that be; telling them she was in love with Will not James; breaking her engagement; perhaps even renouncing the crown – so much anger, disappointment, and pain – all for just a one night stand or even a short-lived affair.

If that was all that Will was offering, as wonderful as even that would be, it couldn't be enough. She needed something more, a legitimate committed relationship and nothing less. But could Will want those things too? Was he serious about her? Would he _ever_ be? She just didn't know if she could take that chance. She'd acted rashly and impulsively once, jumping out of that boat without thinking, and though it had ended up bringing her to Will she very nearly died in the process. There was a lesson to be learned there.

Will may be a gambling man but, with such high stakes, Elizabeth couldn't afford to be. Her heart and so much more was riding on this. No, for now her cup must remain firmly over her dice and nothing short of a clear sign that Will was interested in something more lasting, that his feelings were real and abiding, could change that.

But that still didn't mean she wanted to go back now. So how to explain her behavior then? She supposed it would be easiest to go along with what he'd already given her. "Yes," she told him, "we're in here because I'm not ready to be found yet." And that part was at least true. The next was the lie. "I'm just having too much fun still, you know? I'm not ready for the responsibility again. Carefree freedom all the way for me," she said, attempting a lightness she did not feel. "Maybe in another few weeks – or a month more – I'll be ready, but not yet."

After a moment of processing that, Will responded. "O-okay….but – "

"But what?"

"But….what do you plan to do for the next month then? You can't hide in closets forever, Elizabeth, nor can you spend the next week, or month, or the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. And I don't imagine your father is going to give up so easily, especially now that he knows where you are. They're going to find you eventually – my guess is sooner rather than later – and you're going to have to deal with this. You're going to have to face it head on."

So much for living in denial. Will was right of course. They wouldn't give up now. There was nowhere left to run. She was as good as found. And that meant there was no more time left, no chance to ferret out Will's true feelings. Her life, her future, was coming to a head. It would all have to be figured out soon….too soon.

Will's velvet eyes held Elizabeth's. "Now's the time for you to change things in your life, everything you ran away from. But you're not in this alone. I'll help you. I'll help you deal with them."

Something poignant and intense hung in the air between them. All this time they'd been dancing around each other, but here he was looking at her across the distance of the small closet like she was the only one alive for him. Since they met, it seemed Will was trying to do things differently with her. He hadn't slept with her all this time, hadn't made her a 'rules girl'. Maybe it did go deeper than she suspected. Maybe he would want something more with her.

Her gaze locked on his, she started out tentatively, fishing, trying for some hint at what he might be feeling. "They….they're going to want me to go back." And she would never want to do that, not without him.

Will didn't respond. He just nodded that he understood, that he knew they would expect her to go.

It had come down to now or never. As soon as she walked out of that closet, they would find her, maybe in an hour, maybe a day; it didn't matter. Her future had to be decided by then. And it seemed there was only one way of knowing how Will felt. Elizabeth was going to have to swallow her pride and ask.

Her eyes holding his, she repeated, "They're going to want me to go back with them…Should I, Will? Should I go? Or is there….is there a reason – _any_ reason – I should stay?" He made no immediate reply, but she was beyond maintaining her dignity now. She would put herself out there. She would ask the definitive question, though in doing so it would make her feelings obvious. She needed to know _that_ much. "Tell me, Will," she begged, holding her breath as she awaited his answer. "Do _you_ want me to stay?"

Will didn't know what to say to that. Of course he wanted her to stay; he wanted it more than anything. He _loved_ her more than anything. But could he tell her that? She was attracted to him. Physically she wanted him, he knew. It was possible she had some romantic feeling for him beyond straightforward lust, but if she did – and that was a big if – was it enough? Was it enough for her to even _want_ to try to surmount the massive barriers that existed between them and give up so much – her life, her whole world – to be with him? The fact that she continually tried to deny what she felt for him, that she was holding back even her simple attraction to him, was certainly not a good indication.

How could he declared his love to Elizabeth when whatever it was she felt for him was apparently unwilling on her part and was something she remained determined to fight? Telling her the truth now would only hurt her by revealing how much _she_ was hurting _him_. For that reason, his feelings for her must remain his burden alone to bear.

This decision to stay or to go, to be with him or not, had to be her free choice. He was sure that was the only chance they had at any kind of a future relationship. What he wanted, at the moment, didn't matter. They were hovering on the edge of a precipice. _She_ had to be the one to take them over. He couldn't try to pull her unwillingly. It had to be her choice and it had to be made without hesitation, reluctance, or uncertainty – and unquestionably without pressure or coercion for him. Unlike everyone else in her life, he would give her freewill.

Elizabeth watched Will debate his answer, watched something powerful come and go in his face as he did. And then he finally spoke.

"I can't make that decision for you, Elizabeth. You have to choose. It's up to you."

Will's words had been quiet and gently spoken, but Elizabeth was hit with a painful jolt through her heart nonetheless. '_It's up to you_.' Wasn't that the quintessential response of apathy, the very definition of indifference? In so many words, he'd just revealed that in the long run it wouldn't matter much to him one way or the other if she stayed there on the island or left never to return.

Her eyes turned stormed and she looked away from him, trying to hide the rising grief and tears that threatened. "Well, I – I think you're right. There's no sense in hiding in this closet forever." She got up from her bucket with enough force to knock it over, sending it skidding across the floor between them. In mounting distress and with a rising voice, she continued, "I guess we should just pound on the door, or scream, or yell, or claw, or something – "

"Elizabeth," Will cut through the tirade. It was obvious she was upset, close to hysterics even. He tried to go to her but, in the darkness, he stubbed his toe on something hard and metallic on the ground, causing a harsh clang to reverberate through the small room. He ignored it, taking another step, but whatever the object was seemed to have become lodged on his shoe and clanked with his every movement.

"Shh," Elizabeth issued the warning, along with a raised hand. As much as she said she was ready to leave the closet and be discovered, it had been a lie, and she now heard voices outside, startlingly close.

"Elizabeth," Will persisted, clanging as he stepped forward again.

"Will, stop. Be _quiet_."

But it was obvious he wouldn't be swayed, so she started to come to him instead. Unfortunately, in her haste, she forgot the overturned bucket and caught it right in her already bruised shin, tripping and tumbling directly into Will. Caught off guard, he wasn't prepared for the impact and fell back onto the closed door with Elizabeth plastered against his front.

She attempted to right herself as quickly as she could. After the sting of hearing him all too easily admit that her departure wouldn't rock his world, the last thing she needed was for him to get the wrong idea and think she was making overtures to him again. With that in mind, Elizabeth hastily regained her footing but, to her surprise, he didn't let go of her upper arms, where his hands had automatically perched during her tumble against him.

Their eyes met and held, making Will want things he couldn't have. He slowly released her arms then, but his legs took a step nearer of their own volition. He heard her breath catch, watched her wide glistening eyes deepen, and he all but forgot himself. Whatever it was she wanted, whatever she needed, he could be it. He knew he could, if she'd just let him. Wouldn't she just let him?

He bent close, his voice a sensuous whisper as he spoke near her ear. "Elizabeth….stay."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, at the knowledge that her departure from the island would mean something to him after all. And then he continued. "No one will hear you knocking, and there's nowhere to rush off to…Stay here with me now," he requested.

Elizabeth's heart fell as quickly as it had soared. So this was a temporary invitation, as all of Will's tended to be. Still, he was so close, his warm breath disturbing the fallen tendrils near her temple, making it difficult to think and harder still to refuse what he offered, fleeting though it may be. She loved him even if he would forget her tomorrow.

Reaching up, Will finessed her hair down as he'd wanted to earlier. The softness and the smell of it immediately assaulted his scenes. At her gentle sigh, he threaded his fingers though his hair, burying them in the silken tresses, seductively massaging her scalp until she tilted her head into his touch.

At length pulling back, he let his hands slip free from her hair, pausing to rub one last strand between his forefinger and thumb. His eyes raked over her face in the flickering candlelight causing little shivers of excitement to race through her despite the warning call of _'temporary_' her brain kept trying to shout to her heart.

Will tenderly cupped Elizabeth's cheek then and, when he found that wasn't enough, framed her face in both his hands, inching towards her until there was only a sliver of air between them. Her eyes fell closed and she nestled her face into his hands, pressing a kiss to his thumb as it hovered near her lips.

When she opened her eyes again, they went inexorably to his mouth, and her body swayed closer to his. It was all the encouragement he needed. In one quick movement his arms encircled her hips and he hauled her against him, leaning back onto the door, supporting both of their weights.

Elizabeth's breath suspended for several heartbeats and her fingers curled into his shirt as ripples of heat flared in her belly at the contact. Recovering, she slid her hands up his chest to his neck, the tips of her fingers softly stroking his nape. Will's eyes glazed as he felt the swell of her breasts pressing against him, the perfect flare of her hips beneath his fingers. Bending his head, he lowered his face close to her neck, inhaling her sweetness, and the warmth of his breath fanned over the hollow between her neck and shoulder, making her gasp.

Will moved his left arm from around her hip, no longer needing it to hold Elizabeth in place as she now clung to him. His hand moved to her shoulder, testing the silk of the blouse he'd long to feel beneath his rough palms from the moment she answered her door. His hand glided from the slim silk sleeve to her bare skin, only the warm of the woman betraying any difference in texture, and back again. Over and over, back and forth, he caressed her, his hand finally sliding up her arm and over her shoulder, gliding along the silk over her ribs and down to the curve of waist.

His fingers slipping beneath her shirt to her bare middle, he brought his lips up to gruffly murmur, "You feel so good."

For a fraction of a second his mouth brushed against her earlobe and she trembled. "Will," she sighed with such want in her tone that nothing could have stopped him from answering it, fulfilling it.

He moved his mouth from her ear, aligning it with hers to give them the kiss they both craved. She felt the heat of his mouth nearly settle on her lips. Just as he licked his tongue out to taste her and she awaited the heady sensation that always engulfed her when his lips met hers, brightness invaded her senses and the world tumbled out from beneath them.

With a hard jolt, Elizabeth landed atop Will.

" 'ello, Poppit."

Will and Elizabeth blinked like owls in the brightness, still catching their breath, as Pintel and Ragetti peered down at them.

"We heard the noise, thought you needed help," Ragetti said.

"But we can see you're busy," Pintel chortled.

Despite the jarring bewilderment of what had just happened Elizabeth knew a moment of appreciation for the incredible feel of Will beneath her. The feelings he evoked in her with just the simplest of touches was like nothing she had ever known before. It was unbridled passion, a thrill unmatched by anything she had ever experienced, and had it not been for Pintel and Ragetti's interruption, she had no idea how far things might have gone in the darkened closet. They'd already gone too far….far enough even to make her momentarily forget about the weight bearing down on her, about the decision before her, and Will's words in response. _It's up to you_.

Looking down into his eyes, she allowed herself a second of mourning for what might have been…in so many ways – if they hadn't been interrupted, if he'd answered her differently, if he only gave half a damn.

Abruptly, she began to scramble off him and Will silently commanded himself to pull it together enough to take his hands off of her.

Once she'd straightened her clothes and gotten to her feet, Ragetti addressed her, "Some men were looking for you."

"Yes," Elizabeth answered, her attention going back to Will, though her eyes were clouded now with no trace of the openness or raw yielding of just moments before.

"They didn't realize she was preoccupied with this one," Pintel smirked over at the two of them, nudging his cohort who automatically joined him in laughter.

Her eyes fixed unerringly on Will, Elizabeth took a step closer to him, blocking out the others and giving him one last chance. "You're right; I can't hide forever. It's past time for me to face this. So….I suppose I should – I should just go let them find me…."

She trailed off, her attention focused solely on him, waiting for some sort of reaction, hoping for a negative response, praying for any kind of argument to the contrary. But he just looked at her, his eyes dark and inscrutable, and said nothing.

Elizabeth felt tears pool in her eyes. "Alright then," she managed to choke out, turning and walking away while Will sadly but silently watched her go.

* * *

AN: * ducking the flying objects * Okay, don't kill me. Hear me out. ; ) Some people have expressed frustration that Will & Elizabeth don't just get together already, so I wanted to explain a little of where I'm coming from in drawing this out.

For one thing, it's storyline pure and simple. No sitcom, drama, soap opera, film, book or whathaveyou lets their love interests get together right away. For long-running outlets, like many television shows, it often takes multiple seasons (read: multiple years) before this happens. It's a common writing tactic to have the couple come close, back up, come close again, etc. with misunderstanding and complications thrown in.

With that said, I firmly believe it stays true to these particular characters to keep beating around the bush for so long, and particularly with having communication troubles continually waylay the relationship. Many, if not all, of these monkey wrenches are character as well as plot driven. Here is my rationale:

On Will's side of things, one reviewer described him as 'clueless' in reaction to his response to Elizabeth's behavior. And that's exactly the thing about Will. When it comes to Elizabeth, he often is 100% clueless. Look at him in the 1st Pirates movie (or even with his uncertainty about Elizabeth's feelings in the 2nd and 3rd films). Will isn't dumb. He's intelligent and extremely perceptive...about everything _except_ Elizabeth's feelings for him. I personally believe that's because he thinks himself so much lesser than what she could have that he cannot fathom her loving or choosing him (in the 2nd and 3rd film this is probably lingering doubts raising their ugly heads). It takes Will literally until the last five or so minutes of the 1st film to get his act together. And even then after he confesses his love, he doesn't expect to hear it in return. He just takes off sort of like, 'I very well may die now and I want her to know I love her before I do' not, 'Why don't I hear if she loves me back'. And at the very, very end when the Governor says, "After all, he is a blacksmith", Will looks down and away as if he still feels unworthy and is perhaps _still_ doubtful of Elizabeth's response. So I think it makes perfect sense for Will to be insecure about Elizabeth and therefore clueless to, or at least not fully recognizing, her feelings for him. Sort of like, she may like me, but does she really like me _enough_? That seems to be the lingering question in his mind through the entire trilogy.

As for Elizabeth, I'm keeping her mum for now about her feelings for Will because she just doesn't want to get hurt. In her mind, she's put herself out there more than once and given Will his chances and she's not been responded to favorably, so it doesn't bode well in her opinion. And how many times in the 1st Pirates film do we see her giving Will chances that he doesn't take: in her front parlor, below deck, on the Isle de Muerta, and who knows how many times after they returned before Jack's hanging – or even in the years before Curse of the Black Pearl started?

In my mind I see Elizabeth's reaction to Will in **Holiday** now falling somewhere between what we witness in the 1st Pirates movie in her front parlor when he insists on remaining formal with her – that frustration, hurt, and anger – mixed with her reaction to him in the 2nd and 3rd films when she doesn't want to tell him what she did to Jack – that doubt in herself and in the strength of Will's love for her and its ability to endure through hardship.

So this is where I'm coming from in Will and Elizabeth's reactions and thought processes. But, rest assured, just like in the Pirates trilogy, though it takes time, they will eventually come clean with each other and get together but, just like in the Pirates trilogy, there will also be times when you want to give them a good shake before that happens.


	18. My One Exception

~

* * *

_I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance_

_And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness_

_Because none of it was ever worth the risk_

_But, darling, you are the only exception _

- H. Williams

* * *

It took Elizabeth an hour to find Murtogg and Mullroy, remarkably lounging casually by the crowded pool, animatedly debating some topic or other, she knew not what. Will had caught up to her long before that, within five minutes of her walking away to be exact. True to his word, he didn't want her to face this alone. And when the pair did finally approach her father's agents it was with Will's arm curved protectively around her waist; working for her father or not, he still remembered how they'd manhandled her.

Forty-five minutes later, Elizabeth was back in the Black Pearl's lobby, tucked away in Jack's office with Murtogg and Mullroy standing guard at the door, waiting for one of her father's assistants to patch her through to him.

She gripped the phone tighter in her right hand, the fingers of her left nervously drumming on the desk. How was she going to explain what she'd done, the reason she'd done it…and most of all why she'd continued to live in hiding for these past weeks? She knew Murtogg and Mullroy, through Gillette, had already informed her father of her location. And she knew he was expecting her call. But the fact that, in this exchange of information, they had also surely revealed that she'd initially resisted going back with them, violently even, left her further tensed and anxious.

"Elizabeth?" her father's deep voice carried through the phone, setting off a nearly overpowering sense of nostalgia.

This was it, the only thing she had missed while she'd been gone. Not the king, not the title, not the role, but her _father_, the smiling doting man that used to bounce her on his knee, playing the part of the maelstrom plagued pirate ship for her laughing four-year-old self.

"Yes, Father. It's me. I'm here."

"Oh, Elizabeth. Thank God. I thought – When you'd gone missing, I feared you were – Oh, thank God."

Tears filled her eyes and she was hit with a sickening wave of guilt that left a heavy pit in her stomach. "I know," she said softly. "And I'm sorry, for that. I didn't think a lot about it beforehand; I just did it."

"You might've been killed," Weatherby told her, the sheer agony of the thought made known in his voice.

"I know. I do. I almost _was_." She heard his gasp and hurried on. "But I made it. Still, I…..I never considered when I jumped off that ship that it would be the only thing _for_ you to think, that I was…..gone. I never meant to put you through that kind of suffering."

He sighed heavily, the tender consoling tone of a loving father taking over. "It's alright, dearest. It's done now, and you're safe. That's all that matters." _Perhaps not all though_, his mind amended, for how heavy must his daughter's suffering have been for her to grow desperate enough to escape into the ocean with little forethought or planning?

"Elizabeth," he began, his voice still awash in gentleness, unknowingly drawing up powerful emotions in his daughter, "why did you do it? From what I gather, you weren't trying to….to kill yourself."

"_No_," she hastened to assure him. "No, it was never that. I just wanted to….." She paused, wondering how to put to words exactly what she had wanted. "…..To get away."

"Is your life here so terrible?" he asked, but he already knew the answer.

On the outside looking in, it appeared his daughter had everything a woman could ever wish for; from her birth, he had seen to it that she did. But she was miserable. They never spoke of it, but it was obvious to anyone who knew her well. Since childhood, Elizabeth had always been unhappy with the constraints of royal life. She wanted to be young, and free, and adventurous, but such things were not meant for the Swann family. Theirs was a higher purpose, one they were born to and must learn to accept early on. Unfortunately for his daughter, she never had. After the suddenly untimely death of her mother when Elizabeth was yet little more than a baby, not quite seven years old, he'd let the restraints of decorum grow lax, but as she came into womanhood he had no choice but to set her down the proper path toward her future. It pained him to know it was a future she despised. Oh she thought she hid it well, but he was her father; he knew. Yet as much love as there was between them – and he loved her more than anything in this world – he was torn between what convention demanded and what would bring about Elizabeth's happiness. It was a terrible thing to be caught in the middle this way, failing your country and your ancestors on one hand and your own flesh and blood, your only daughter, on the other.

"Father, I – "

"Never mind. Don't answer that. What I want to know is how you came to be where you are? What happened to you?"

"I ended up here, on this island, because it was the closest thing. I'd never heard of it, never knew of it before. It was fate really. It's a little slip of a thing." She knew its small size was probably the only thing that kept her under her country's radar for so long, and allowed her so much time here. "I saw the lights onshore from the yacht. I remember thinking, if I could only reach them I could be real, and happy, and…..free. I got upset, so they gave me something to calm me. Before I knew it the idea of going for it, swimming to shore and finding those lights – that happiness – seemed like the best thing, the _only_ thing, to do. But the waves and the current were more powerful then I thought. I'm a strong swimmer, but the medicine made me so tired."

_Good God_, Weatherby thought, his heart squeezing with panic. They had drugged his daughter and very nearly caused her demise within the ocean's frothing waters. "What happened?" he asked in alarm. "Did you lose consciousness?"

"Not at first. I made it to the edge of a pier, somehow, and was just barely able to pull myself up onto it. Seconds later, I collapsed onto the nearest bench."

"And…." He was almost afraid to ask. Being the king, he may live within a bubble of sorts, but he was not wholly ignorant of the world at large. He had heard of such things as men who took advantage of incapacitated women, some who even did the drugging themselves for just that purpose. If his daughter fell prey to some such ruffian, he would see to it that the scoundrel paid with his life. "And what happened then?"

"Well, that's when Will found me."

He could hear the emotion in his daughter's voice as plain as day. It wasn't fear or dread that flooded her tone but a far different, though no less dangerous, set of emotions that gave him pause in a whole new way. "Will?" he questioned.

"Yes. He's a local man, though originally from England. Will's a shipwright, and a naval architect, and a master of swords – oh, and a captain."

She fairly gushed about this William. Weatherby would have to have his men look into him. In the meantime, he was smart enough to know he must tread carefully. Choosing his words with the tact of a man who'd spent a lifetime in politics, he said, "Is he now?"

"Yes. And so much more. He found me and could see I was worse for the wear," she recalled with amusement. "He took me home safely, and I've been staying there ever since."

A clearing of a throat broke into the line, along with a third voice. "Yes, so we've heard the reports."

Elizabeth quickly recognized the voice of Gillette, the head of her nation's security team, and she wondered with a sudden nausea if he'd been listening in the entire time…and if her father knew it and said nothing. "Reports from whom?" she asked, and gone was the tender reunion, the sharing between father and daughter, to be replaced with guardedness and a near open hostility.

"From a Mister Barbossa, or Captain, as he claims himself to be."

"_Barbossa_?"

"Yes. He gave us information on your whereabouts," Gillette informed her, "in exchange for a hefty sum and our false promise to imprison and strip away the assists of a Mister Jack Sparrow."

"Captain," she corrected. "Captain Jack Sparrow." And wouldn't both he and Will love to hear how the man had betrayed them all. Will was right; there were still pirates here, just of a whole other sort. "And whatever Barbossa said about him isn't true. He owns the Black Pearl, the resort where I've been staying. He's a close friend of Will's. He's given me a roof over my head, at no charge whatsoever. He's a good man – and the Pearl is legally his no matter what Barbossa says to the contrary."

"Elizabeth," her father interjected regretfully, "we do know you were arrested." They had heard some other things too, rumors of wild behavior, of her living with a man who the gossip about town claimed as her purported lover, presumably this Will she spoke of.

"That was a misunderstanding, Father. I was driving Will's Lambretta and I lost control. It could've happened to anyone, and surely wasn't worthy of an arrest," she argued.

"That's neither here nor there at the moment. What I want – no, what I _need_ –to know from you is – " Weatherby paused rather dramatically, as if he feared to actually ask the question. "Elizabeth, are you married?"

"_What_? No. You know I'm not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"It was in the police report, that you were married. Gillette here didn't want to tell me but I wheedled it out of him."

"No, Father. I'm not married," she revealed, her voice the epitome of longsuffering. "I only said so to avoid the sentence."

"Well I'm immensely relieved to hear that. Still, you've….._enjoyed_ your freedom," Weatherby said, and although he didn't scold her further she heard the disappointment in his voice. "Now we must think of a way to explain your behavior."

"There was nothing wrong in my behavior, Father. Yes, I enjoyed my freedom. I lived happily and normally for once in my life."

"Normal is not for you, Elizabeth," he responded, and this time there was at least the hint of sadness in his voice. "It never has been, and it never will be."

And that was the crux of the problem in their relationship, the proverbial wedge that always drove them apart: Weatherby yearned for Elizabeth's happiness, wished he could give her the things she wanted in life, but in the end he wasn't willing to stand up against propriety and fight for his daughter's wellbeing.

"Of course not," Elizabeth answered.

Weatherby sighed, heavily conflicted, but Gillette, either not noticing or not caring, took over the conversation. "Princess, your father and I have discussed this and we feel its best to be proactive about this situation. I'm sure you know the media believes you were taken ill, but it's gone on for so long, whispers have already begun. It's only a matter of time before the press finds out your whereabouts and, if we make no statement, rumor will take over. As it is, we will probably have to fight such things in the tabloids, but as long as we can sway the legitimate media I believe we'll avoid any irreparable scandal."

"Yes," Elizabeth replied in a small voice. "And we wouldn't want that."

"Surely not," Gillette agreed, aghast.

"Father?" she questioned, searching for his feeling on this, as he had been largely silent.

"We do wish to avoid scandal, Elizabeth. You must see why."

So he hadn't taken her side then. It shouldn't hurt so much since he never did, but after being away so long she thought perhaps… "I do see why." And she did see her father's point of view. She only wished he'd see hers for once.

"What Gillette proposes," Weatherby informed his daughter, "is to make this look like a planned respite for you, a nice quiet tropical place for you to recover and recuperate from your recent 'illness'."

"If I may, sir?"

"Yes, go ahead," the kind gave him permission to list the details.

"Your father will come himself, Princess, to lend credence to the tale. However he does have some matters of state to attend to first, and we did not want it to appear that he is hastening to your side – as if you've gotten into some sort of trouble – but merely coming to join you in your recuperation and ultimately take you home. But, as he cannot arrive until Saturday, I will come first to…._arrange_ things."

More like keep an eye on her, Elizabeth was sure, but she refrained from saying as much.

"To give it even more legitimacy, your fiancé will immediately follow your father's arrival. You'll all three stay a day or two to provide the appearance of rest and relaxation, then you'll all leave together."

"You see, Elizabeth," Weatherby spoke up hopefully, "it's not entirely dreadful. You will get to stay awhile longer, enjoying your tropical sun. Perhaps I can even arrange for my men to find you a shipwreck to explore. There must be plenty of local pirate lore to find something to interest you during our stay."

He was throwing her a bone, she could see that, and she supposed she should be grateful for at least that, but such little gestures were no longer enough for her. They could never be again.

* * *

By the time she got off the phone with her father, the plans were set in stone, her future written out before her…unless she was brave enough to jump ship again.

When Murtogg and Mullroy let her out of the office and she finally convinced them it was alright to allow her out of their eyesight, Elizabeth sought out Anna in the hopes of bumping lunch for four to dinner instead. Perhaps they could have something small and quiet back at her cabana – which was the one area on which she refused to budge. Gillette and her father thought it best if she moved into one of the regular guest suites rather than the private, familial area of the resort, but she had been adamant that as long as she stayed on the island, her cabana would remain her home.

Before she could find Anna, however, Will found her and hustled her past a gawking Murtogg and Mullroy back into Jack's office.

When she looked at him with question and a hint of resentment at the move, he countered, "Unless you'd rather the supply closet again?"

She immediately backed down and whatever retort had been on the tip of her tongue slid away, along with her eyes from his.

"How are you?" he asked softly, with a tenderness inflection that, like always, called to her.

"I survived," she hedged, attempting levity which he instantly saw through.

"What happened, Elizabeth?" he gently prompted.

"It's been decided, to make my little stay on the island look less sordid, my father is to meet me here in three days. Gillette, our head of security," she explained, "is coming tomorrow to keep an eye on me. You know, make sure I don't run away again, or do anything – and I'm quoting here – 'foolish and irreparable to the family's reputation'."

"He sounds like a lovely man."

"Yes," she nodded, his disdainful quip succeeding in getting a laugh out of her, however small. It was when her eyes again slipped away from his that Will knew he wasn't going to like the next part. "After my father arrives, the next day, James is coming."

If Elizabeth had been brave enough to chance a glance at Will she could have clearly seen his tension in the set of his broad shoulders and the muscle clenching in his jaw. "So it all goes back to good ol' Jim, doesn't it?"

Meeting his gaze again, she gave him a bittersweet smile. "You should call him that to his face, see how he reacts."

"Oh, I will," he said, something dark and brooding in his eyes. "As soon as you tell him the sort of dancing you're fond of."

He had meant it as a reminder that her would be fiancé didn't know her at all, not the her she kept hidden, her _real_ self, the one who longed for freedom, adventure, and excitement – who had a touch of wild, mischievous vixen in her that was as innate as her more easily observed tender sweetness. But when her face blanched, then colored, he instantly knew he'd misspoken.

"Will, I – " She broke off uncomfortably. "I was drunk when we…...I – I don't normally – "

He put his fingers at her chin, tipping it back up and forcing her to look at him. "I was talking about at Calypso," he said lightly. At the knowledge that _she_ had been the one thinking of their dirty dancing and not him, a fresh attractive tinge of pink settled across her cheekbones. "But it is nice to know our other evening left such an impression on you."

An impression? Remembrances of that night only continually starred in her dreams, both waking and asleep. From the look on his face as he regarded her, she guessed something in hers must have given her way.

Will reached out and stroked the sleeve of her silk shirt, mimicking his earlier action in the closet. His hand slid down the bare skin of her arm to linger at her wrist. "You still feel good, Elizabeth," he told her, holding her gaze.

Thankfully, Jack returned to his office then, saving her the trouble of replying, for she knew not how to respond to such a statement other than with the bald truth: that it felt good to have him touch her – words that were dangerously close to leaving her lips.

* * *

That evening, during dinner at her cabana, Elizabeth enlightened Jack and Anna, the former of which she thought particularly deserved an explanation since it was his resort that would soon be besieged, about her father's plans and what would happen in the next few days to come.

She also let slip Barbossa's role in her being found, something that her father and Gillette had sworn her to secrecy over until they decided how best to handle a ruffian who would use the princess's whereabouts in order to blackmail for his own personal gain. Despite their wishes, Elizabeth thought it only right that Jack and Will know the lengths the man had gone to in an attempt to threaten both the Black Pearl and their personal lives. After the two women managed to talk the men out of "organizing a small vigilante mob and paying Hector a little visit", as Jack had suggested, they went on to enjoy the meal as best they could.

However, though Will and Elizabeth pretended as if nothing was wrong, it was clear that her discovery and the imminent arrival of her family and the world she had fought so hard to outrun had placed a strain on their relationship. Whatever they had been playing at was about to come to an end and it was now time to either give up the game entirely or make it into something more. That that decision had yet to be made was so painfully obvious even Anna and Jack could feel the awkwardness between them, crescendoing when there was a mistake about whose water was whose. Will and Elizabeth both reached for the same glass at the same time and their fingers brushed, setting off a fierce and immediate spark that stopped them both short.

"I – I'm sorry," Elizabeth mumbled, as she had been the one reaching for the wrong glass.

It was on the tip of Will's tongue to tell her _he_ wasn't sorry in the least for the small yet combustible touch but, in the presence of Jack and Anna, he spared her the aftermath such a comment would cause – either an argument between them or further flirtation, either of which would embarrass her.

After dinner was through, Anna lingered at Elizabeth's bungalow, hearing her friend's take on what it was like to live the life of a princess – a brand new revelation to her ears – while Jack and Will drifted across the path to the porch of Will's cabana.

The two men, so close they were almost brothers, settled against the rail toward the back of the house, Jack facing Will and Will looking out toward the sea.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on?" Jack asked.

"What do you mean?" Will countered. But they both were aware he knew full well what Jack was talking about.

"What gives with you two? At the Empress you were all but giving her the business in the middle of my dance floor and – "

"That was days ago, Jack."

"_Two_ days ago."

"She was drunk," Will said noncommittally.

"She knew what she was doing – at the very least with whom."

_Tell that to her_, Will thought ironically. "Forget about the Empress."

"Alright," Jack conceded. "How about this afternoon? One minute I hear you two are going at it hot and heavy in the supply closet, the next thing I know everything's gone all pear shaped and they're coming to take her away."

"We weren't snogging." Yet.

Jack gave him a look that told him to cut the crap, but his voice was soft as he asked, "What happened, mate?"

"She decided I wasn't a good enough reason to stay," Will admitted, his voice nothing short of tortured, though he tried to conceal it.

That hadn't at all been what Jack was expecting to hear, and something still didn't ring true in it. After a long pause, he answered, "You're saying she doesn't want you? I don't believe it. I've seen too much to the contrary. As much as you want to forget the Empress….." He trailed off, letting the insinuation speak for itself.

"So she has a fever for me. It means nothing in the long run," Will replied. "The facts remain the same. I'm in love with a woman who doesn't love me back."

Jack understood that was quite an admission, especially considering his friend's history. If he would say as much aloud, to someone else, he must be good and sure of the truth of it. After all these years, he itched to at least tease his buddy a little for finally falling prey to a woman, but he knew now was not the time. "She told you that, that she doesn't love you?"

Will said nothing, but his silence was telling.

"So then you told her that _you_ love her, and she said nothing?"

"No," Will finally conceded. "I didn't tell her that." Jack gave him an ah-hah look. "But she knows how I feel about her."

"Might I ask, how?"

"My actions have made it clear. Haven't you heard they speak louder than words?"

"That doesn't mean some woman don't find them necessary. Those are usually the ones I run from, but that's what yours is. And, if you want her, you're going to have to tell her."

"Look, Jack, I didn't tell her and she didn't tell me. But she didn't _have_ to. She didn't have to tell me she isn't in love with me. It's obvious she never could be. I just saved her the trouble of saying so. And now she's returning to her world, like I always knew she would."

"See now, maybe that's the problem," Jack said wisely.

"What?" Will asked, annoyed at the older man's obnoxiously knowing tone, as if the problem that vexed him day and night was so easily solved.

"You always assumed she would." Jack let Will digest that a moment before continuing. "My guess is you were jumpy with her from the start, so afraid with your rules and your standards – that are ridiculous and ignorant to begin with, by the way, and will do nothing to keep someone from falling in love against their will, as you've discovered. But Elizabeth was different, and you were willing to bend all your silly rules and fears and beliefs for her from the get-go, which tells me you felt an immediate connection to your bonny lass. But, even as things progressed, you remained completely certain that this – let's face it – insanely hot woman, who just happens to be a princess, could never truly want you, would never actually pick you. It was absolutely impossible that she'd ever fall in love with you. Am I anywhere close?"

Will opened his mouth to deny it, but changed his mind, begrudgingly admitting the truth. "Try dead-on."

"William." Jack shook his head. "How do you ever expect to win the woman if you're already convinced from the very beginning that you've lost her?"

"I guess….I guess you're right. But what else is there for me to think?" Will challenged. "It's not as easy as you make it sound. There's an awful lot standing between us, masses of barriers she'd have to break through, so much we'd have to fight. And look around. Our world is different than hers. She'd be giving up so much to be with me – obviously too much, which is why she's decided to go back….I don't know what else I can do."

Jack sighed, looking at Will as if he thought he were an idiot. "If I may lend a hint of reason to that unusually thick head of yours: tell her."

"She knows that I want her. I _have_ told her."

"Tell her how you _feel_. Now's the time to speak up. It's _past_ the time to speak up," Jack said, stating what he thought was obvious. "You have to tell her, mate, or you're going to lose her for sure."

Could Jack be right? It seemed to make sense. But only if Elizabeth really did have feelings for him. Otherwise he'd simply be opening his heart to a woman who could never return that love. He'd feel like a fool and, more besides, she'd know how much she'd devastated him. He didn't want to put that burden on her. Perhaps that's what it meant to be in love, shouldering all the hurt to keep the other person from having to take on any…Any maybe that's why, for all those years, his mother never let on to his father how much he'd hurt her. It was a sudden answer to a question he'd wondered all his life.

But maybe there was a compromise, Will pondered as he watched the waves cap in the distance. Maybe there was something in between. "Alright, Jack. I'll talk to her. But not tonight. She's been through enough today already."

Jack nodded. "But don't wait too long, William. In another few days, her fiancé is coming and _he'll_ be talking to her then – and a whole lot more than that, you can bet. Another day or two after that, and she'll be gone for good. Your time's running out."

* * *

Gillette arrived bright and early the next morning, full of plans and schemes to stay one step ahead of the media and avoid scandal – or at least avoid any more than was already beginning to buzz about. At the moment it was just unsubstantiated whispers no legitimate media outlet would report on. He planned to keep it that way.

He tried once again to convince Elizabeth to quit her cabana across from Will's and move into one of the suites the royal family had leased, but she would have none of it. Likewise, she didn't want Gillette or any of her father's other men invading the space she had carved out for herself, so all meetings took place in Jack's front lobby office, where Gillette, Elizabeth, Anna, and a few other employees were currently holed up.

Weatherby was all set to arrive on the island the day after tomorrow and, as part of the family's campaign to legitimize the princess's run away adventure, the Black Pearl Resort was to host a gala in the king's honor on the evening of his arrival. Everyone who was anyone on the island and within the neighboring vicinity would be there – along with a hefty portion of the press. It was thought that if the king's welcome was staged and broadcast, and plenty of images of him publically greeting, dancing, and laughing with his daughter were captured and distributed, everyone would assume all was fine and the princess's little side trip was preplanned and sanctioned.

As Jack had no head or patience for such things, Anna was acting as his emissary in the planning of the reception. She had easily determined that the event should take place within the Governor's Ballroom. At the mention of the facility, Elizabeth remembered back to the beginning of her stay when Will had shown her around the Pearl and explained the hulking building at the end of the resort's public pier as the location where elaborate parties, wedding receptions, and the like were held. She had a vague recollection of thinking it must be pretty inside, especially with its view of the sea beyond, and had wished to see for herself. Now she would get her chance, but not exactly under the circumstances she had hoped.

Hammering out of the minor details – themes, colors, table settings, the dress the princess would wear, etc. etc. – ate away much of the morning. Elizabeth sat thumping her foot in boredom against the leg of Jack's desk, thinking the meeting _must_ be drawing to a close soon. How much longer could people actually compare silver to metallic grey? But she supposed this was simply an unfortunate reminder of what she'd be returning to; she'd better get used to it now. Yet it seemed all the more wasteful to spend a morning in this tedious way when on a pristine tropical island on a warm beautiful day such as today.

As soon as Elizabeth was released however, she promised herself her time would be Will's. Today was Thursday, her father would arrive Saturday; they had so little time left. The start of Will's build had been pushed back a week from this coming Monday till next, freeing up several more days to be spent at leisure rather than at his warehouse, prepping for work to begin. At first, she wasn't certain whether to feel elated relief or apprehensive disappointment at the turn of events. On the one hand, she wanted every minute with Will she could have to store away in her mind. On the other hand, it would only make it that much harder to leave him in the end, and a lot more difficult to keep herself from doing something foolish in the meantime – like throwing herself into his arms despite every reason not to. Still, elation quickly won out. Her heart wanted to be with Will while it still could. The consequences could be sorted out later.

After the storage closet debacle, their time together _had_ been strained. Perhaps Will knew she wanted him to ask her to stay and he felt guilty for not doing so? Or maybe it was just the awkwardness of their caresses in the dark, of about the twentieth almost-kiss. Maybe it was just the knowledge that time was winding down before their final goodbye. Whatever the reason, they seemed to solve the problem by simply pretending it didn't exist. They never mentioned her father coming, or James, or Elizabeth's eventual departure. They simply went on as before, as if nothing had changed at all, and in that way they'd been able to find the easiness with one another that had always existed – even if it was a bit tempered by their inability to completely block out what was happening.

So when Elizabeth heard Gillette begin to wind down, satisfied with their preparations thus far, she felt a little tremor of excitement, as she knew Will was waiting for her in the lobby beyond. Oh, she was certain it wouldn't be as easy as all that. She would be watched. Murtogg and Mullroy or one of the many others of her father's agents and security team leaders who had arrived with Gillette – possibly even the man himself – would be tailing her, monitoring her every movement. She'd already endured an impertinent conversation with him that included very thinly veiled allusions to an improper liaison between herself and Will. She'd ignored his innuendo and vocally, thoroughly, and quite indisputable made her thoughts known of such intrusions into her personal life; she would prove every bit the force to be reckoned with she was rumored to be if it became necessary. Besides, Gillette would have an awfully hard time keeping tabs on her out on the open seas with Will, as he had promised to take her today.

* * *

Jack and Will waited impatiently just outside of his office, Jack anxious to know the extent of what was being planned for his resort – and how much it would set him back in the end – and Will to have Elizabeth back by his side…for as long as he could anyway.

"What's taking so long in there?" Will asked in exasperation.

"I presume the planning of silks and lace and a million other fancy doodads that will end up costing me a small fortune," Jack wryly replied. "But what's put a fire under you? Do you miss the girl so much already, or is there something more to it than that?"

"It's complicated, Jack."

"Life is complicated, William. Yours just more so than most at the moment."

For the fifth time in the last thirty or so seconds, Will glanced longingly toward the closed office door, prompting Jack to ask, "Did you tell her yet?"

Will shook his head. "Not yet. I'm…..working up to it."

Jack gave him a skeptical look.

"I _am_. I just – " Will expelled a long breath and looked away. "It's not exactly easy."

"I know," Jack concurred in a rare moment of genuine, unadulterated empathy.

"It seems pretty clear she's already made her choice and – "

"You still have to tell her. Or are you really gonna give up so easy, without even a fight?"

"I…..I don't know how she'll react," Will finally admitted. "I've never had so much at stake before. It makes gambling all the harder. I'm just…waiting for the right moment to reveal my dice."

"And there's a lot to be said for that, mate. But don't want too long. It's almost midnight, and the game's drawing to a close."

* * *

As much as they'd both wanted to, Will hadn't been able to take Elizabeth out on the _Dutchman_, as his ship and the other of the resort's most impressive watercraft were being fine-tuned and docked at the pier alongside the Governor's Ballroom in hopes of leaving the best impression and achieving the most breathtaking media shots. Instead, the pair had rode into the city snuggled together on the back of the Lambretta, zooming out at speeds fast enough to thrill Elizabeth _and_ outrun their trailing chaperones – as well as ensure she remained pressed close against him for security, holding on as tightly to him as he wished she would on solid ground.

Once in town, they saw the sights and retraced their footsteps from early in her stay, including their little café and the boutique where she'd bought her first new dress. They even enjoyed spiced buns on the same cobbled granite wall where they'd stopped before, and hours later ate rum raisin ice cream on the way to the Well of Wishes where Elizabeth repeated the same wish of that first night, modifying it a little: that she could somehow stay here – _with this man – _forever.

Tonight found them back on their beach, the small secluded length of sand and sea just behind Will's cabana. They had been sitting there for more than an hour, making light conversation – talking about everything but what was most paramount in both their minds and hearts. After the last embers of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Will built them a small fire, hoping to prolong the evening as much as possible, not giving Elizabeth darkness as an excuse to retire for the night. But she too seemed content to stay just as they were.

They were both looking out at the dark waters, soaking in the peace of the waves gently lapping onto shore, when a lone shearwater swooped down and plucked a fish off the surface of the ocean, attempting to make off with it. Before it could get very far, however, the little fish wriggled and thrashed its tail, managing to slip out of the bird's long beak back to the safety of the water below. The grey-backed bird let out a shrill cry before flying off. Elizabeth almost know a moment of pity for it, but in the end her allegiances lie with the little fish, escaping his close call to swim off into freedom.

Her gloomy pondering was broken by Will's gentle teasing of her loud gasp at the sight, but she wasn't accustomed to witnessing nature so fully and had been taken by surprise. She playfully chucked him in the arm, shoving her shoulder against his, but he took the brunt of her attack without his hard, muscular body giving so much as an inch. For once in her life, rather than feeling the need to prove herself, she giggled at her ineffectualness and conceded defeat.

"Spoilsport," he winked, and she laughed again.

She looked back out to sea, glancing up at the half-moon, this time grinning, and he had to bite back a sigh of longing. How that smile of hers stayed with him, even as he fought against it. He supposed it would haunt him long after she'd gone, probably forever. And her scent as well. She was close enough now that he could breathe her in, a soft sweet fragrance of lavender and tiaré flower mixed with a hint of vanilla. He would remember it as long as he lived.

Elizabeth sat there next to him, so full of life and sunshine, looking like a vision of loveliness in her flowing sundress. As always, she wore his medallion, the thin line of gold disappearing into her cleavage. Her envied that necklace as much as he revered it, and for the umpteenth time he wondered if she wore it so loyally now solely because of her father, or if it had anything at all to do with its connection to him.

"The nights are so dark here. And yet so bright," she said, drawing his attention from her throat up to her mouth before finally resting on her eyes.

She moved to indicate the sky full of stars twinkling madly over their heads, in case he had any doubt as to her meaning. But Will knew exactly what she meant and didn't want to spare the sky a single glance when he could be looking at her.

"I know," he confirmed. "It's dark and still nights out here, like you're the only soul alive. But at the same time it's completely dazzling, so incredibly gleaming and alight. Not just the stars themselves, but something deeper – the sea, the sand, the palms, the flowers, the glow of the nighttime sky, the promise of another day coming on the horizon, all of it together."

Elizabeth turned back to him and their eyes caught and held. "Yes. That's it exactly." There was no doubt in her mind that Will was her soul mate, the one – the _only_ one – her heart wanted. He knew her on a level that no one else ever had, on a level she couldn't even explain. There was such an almost frighteningly complete connection between them. She would have told him so, but such connections were the very things he ran from.

Instead, she said, "It's so beautiful here…..I'll miss it."

It was the first time all day that either of them had referred to her impending departure and Will was filled with a yearning so powerful he could hardly tamp it down. Back in the storage closet, he'd wanted Elizabeth to be the one to take them over the edge, but she either didn't feel that way about him or had gotten cold feet, maybe both. He still didn't want to remove the choice from her and would have preferred that she come to it all on her own. But time was running out. And maybe Jack was right. Maybe his attitude _had_ been dooming their relationship from the start. Perhaps it was time he forgot about rejection and revealed at least a little of the feelings he kept hidden, and in the process maybe he could nudge Elizabeth a little toward his way of thinking, a way that included the two of them together for a long, long time to come.

"Elizabeth, can I tell you something? I _want_ to tell you something."

"Yes," she faintly answered, sensing from his tone that whatever he was about to divulge held a great importance for them both.

"When I was a young boy growing up in England, I saw too much, more than I ever should have," Will began. "I watched my father slowly destroy my mother, out of selfishness, egoism, self-indulgence – and what he would later describe as instability, weakness, and immaturity."

Elizabeth hadn't expected a discussion of his parents, but she wasn't opposed to it either. She knew how painful it was for Will to talk about these things, and yet what a crucial role they had played in making him the man he was today. She still counted herself fortunate for being one of only two people on the face of this earth he chose to confide in when it came to something this significant to him.

"I know. I'm sorry, Will," she gently comforted. For what else was there to say?

He softly smiled. "I know you are. And I know I've told you all this before, but there's a point. I promise." She silently nodded, waiting for him to continue. "My mother, despite everything, swore that he was coming back, that we would be this picture perfect family. But whatever they'd shared had gone bad before my eyes long ago, whether she could bring herself to admit or not. My father devastated my mother's life and – were he still alive today – he'd be the first to tell you, his own."

Will took a deep breath. "And now I'm finally man enough to recognize and accept that he damaged mine as well. He taught me love was fickle, that it rarely ever lasts, and it certainly wasn't to be trusted. The day my mother died was the day that I swore I'd never be like him, never hurt someone the way that he had. And only the truest, surest kind of love would ever persuade me to become involved with a woman. There would be no weak, selfishness from me…But I think if I'm honest, _truly honest_, with myself I have to admit that something in me also swore that day that Iwouldnever allow _myself_ to hurt the way my mother had. So I avoided entanglements at all costs. I shied away from any kind of intimacy or closeness with a woman. I'll confess I had my fleeting 'involvements' through the years, but still I've led a largely solitary life; I didn't christen my ship the _Flying Dutchman_ for nothing. But you knew that. You saw through me from the start."

Elizabeth held his gaze, her brow a little furrowed, her eyes heavy with emotion as Will struggled to get out the words for everything he'd held inside for so many years.

"The rules," he went on, "all of that, I'd always lived like that – for so long I hardly knew any other way….certainly never trusted any other way. When I came home to a dark empty house, when I shared nothing with no one – lest of all of myself – the loneliness was there, but I told myself it was my lot in life, my burden to bear, and so I did. I bore it, if not with true contentment than at least with resignation. Can you understand that, Elizabeth?"

She could, perfectly she could. Though she hadn't had the sort of instable family life that Will had, nor the suffering at the hands of those he should have been able to trust, she knew a thing or two about burdens, loneliness, and resignation. "I do understand," she affirmed. "In fact, that last that you just said, that's exactly how I'd been living _my_ life for as long as I can remember."

Will nodded, glad she understood. "Though I can't say I was exactly pleased with it, I'd never found anything or anyone worth the struggle – worth the risk – of trying to change it. I was determined to go on living my life that way, with distance, loneliness, and quiet resignation – "

"So was I," Elizabeth seconded, in awe.

Intently meeting her eye, Will finished, "Until I met you."

Elizabeth studied him carefully, wondering at the meaning of what he'd just said, if it could possibly be what she wished it was.

"From the very beginning, you were my one exception," he told her. "I started breaking my so very carefully held rules for you before I even knew your name. I let you in the way I've never let anyone in. I told you things I've never told another soul. And, rather than finding it terrifying, I've found it…." He paused, grasping for the proper word. "_Good_. It feels good."

She smiled hopefully at him, nodding her encouragement.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Elizabeth, is that I'm finally ready now. I'm ready for something more. I don't want to shy away from closeness and intimacy and commitment and love anymore. I want all of those things. I want them for myself. I'm ready to reach for them, ready to try at something more, something meaningful, with – " He caught himself at the last second, stopped himself from all-out confessing that the only one he could ever want those things with was the woman he was looking at right now.

" – with….someone."

Elizabeth took a long calming breath, scrabbling to process all that he'd just said – and the fact that it was _not_ what she had hoped. Instead it was her worst nightmare. "…Someone?"

"Yes. I'm ready for – I _want_ – something more, something _deeper_, with someone…..Hopefully in the near future."

"I – I see. You want something deep, a meaningful relationship….with 'someone'."

"Yes, and you've done that for me, Elizabeth. You've opened me up to that."

He waited to see how she'd take his pronouncement, but disappointingly she didn't seem terribly thrilled at the emotional breakthrough he'd made. In fact, she remained depressingly silent. Perhaps she wasn't fully understanding.

"I'm saying I don't believe in my rules anymore. Like Jack said, they're ridiculous. I mean, look at the two of us. You know me, and I think I know you – no, I _know_ I know you. We've gotten close and we haven't hurt each other, have we?"

_No, not at all_, her mind cruelly mocked her. Just as her heart wasn't breaking now. Will was her savior….and she had been his healer. She'd fixed him, made him whole again. And now apparently he was ready to be delivered into happiness and commitment – in the arms of another woman. It hurt her to even think about. Yet, all the same, she was glad that she had helped him in some way. Her love for him overruled her jealousy and pride in that aspect.

"No, we haven't hurt each other," she lied.

"You see. So it proves that two people can get close without it destroying either one of them. Right?"

"Yes. Of course," she said, trying for conviction in her tone and failing. But, with genuine feeling, she added what she hoped would stay with him, for his own good. "You don't need those rules, Will. You never did. They'll only keep you away from life."

"Exactly. And I don't want that anymore. I want something real, and deep, and true, and lasting." He hesitated, looking her over carefully. "You understand what I'm saying?"

"I do…..And I'm happy for you. Really I am. It will be good for you, Will, that you're ready and open for a serious relationship, with….._someone_, sometime down the line."

Will stiffened. He recognized a brush-off when he heard one. "O-okay. Well I just wanted you to know that."

He'd just told her he wanted love and happiness, commitment and fidelity, a lifetime together forever, but she clearly wasn't interested. His conscious mind knew then this was it. He'd exhausted every avenue. She was leaving. Everything he'd ever longed for before he even realized it was here, in this woman, and she'd be gone soon, flitting through his life like a shooting star, like nothing more than a dream. Still, he couldn't bring himself to say goodnight, to simply get up and walk away with what was left of his dignity. So he sat there with her, side by side, as they lapsed into silence.

Elizabeth wasn't a fool. She comprehended perfectly what Will had just told her: that there wouldn't be anything serious between them; he was looking for that with someone else. He'd let her down gently and easily, making the point understood now so she wouldn't endure a lifetime of wondering and longing the way his mother had. His actions were admirable – going so far as to give her credit for positively changing his life, a balm to ease the wounds in the coming months – even if the situation was impossible for her. And still she couldn't form the words to say, 'Alright then. I'm leaving. I'm marrying someone else'. Despite everything, she found she couldn't let him go yet.

Elizabeth looked up and studied the stars, hoping to read her future in them, for what might have been five minutes or closer to ten, when Will's voice broke through her melancholy reverie. "You know, I still remember what you wore the first time I saw you."

She looked over at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "You do?"

"Uh-huh. It was a navy blue dress with little white daisies sprinkled over it."

"That's right," she answered, sounding surprised.

"I know," he teased. "When I first found you there passed out, I thought you were just another hard-partying, drunken college girl out for a good time. But the dress was all wrong. The dress, that settled it."

"Why?" she asked, amused.

"It was much too cute and sweet and….wholesome to fit that classification."

Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, it was wholesome – enough for a twelve-year-old in fact."

Will looked down at the skirt of her current dress, stopping well above the knee, and the cut of the vee-neckline, dipping low enough to tantalize a man. "You don't dress that way anymore."

She looked down, concentrating on the sand beneath them. Her palm facing skyward, she began sifting it through her fingers absently. "I've changed in many ways since then. As you recall, I've had a lot of 'firsts'."

"Your first time picking out your own clothes," Will filled in.

"Mmm-hmm," she confirmed. "My first sidewalk café."

"Your first time driving."

"A motorbike or a ship – and the _Dutchman_ was my first sailboat.

Will grinned. "Your first arrest…..or so I'm to believe."

"It was!" Elizabeth playfully insisted. "And my first experience with handcuffs, if you'll believe that too." He was still chuckling at the saucy remark as she continued, "My first visit to a bar, or a club", referring to both Calypso and the Empress.

"You're first time getting drunk."

"Followed by my first hangover," she interjected, the remembered misery clear in her tone. "My first time sleeping in the nude," she added mischievously. "Courtesy of your very bad influence."

Will opened his mouth to add to the list, but found himself distracted, returning to that last. "And do you still sleep that way?"

Elizabeth's eyes lit with a naughty gleam. "Naked as a jaybird, every night. Well, except for the one I spent in your bed."

His thoughts instantly traveled to that night as he watched the sand slowly spill between her fingers. "Who knew you were such an exhibitionist? But I'd wager that evening at the Empress was your first such public display. And your very first foray into provocative dancing," he said playfully.

"It _was_ the very first lap dance I've ever given."

His eyebrow rose at that. "So you do remember."

She gave him a sly look, than turned her attention to dusting the last of the granules off of her fingers. She returned her hand, palm up to the sand, but gave up on sifting.

The night grew quiet, the lulling sound of the waves lapping against the shoreline the only thing breaking the silence.

"I'm still glad I jumped of that yacht," Elizabeth's suddenly divulged. Her gaze lifted to meet Will's. "And I'm glad it was you who found me."

Will said nothing in reply, and they again lapsed into silence, but his hand edged closer to hers. It started with his pinkie grazing the side of Elizabeth's thumb. Then, ever so slowly, he edged his fingers over the side of her hand into the center of her palm where he softly stroked abstract patterns and circles into her skin until all at once her fingers folded over his, holding them to her, cradling them in her palm.

She gently squeezed his fingers and, in response, he tenderly rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. Uncurling her fingers from his, he pressed their hands together, palm to palm. They stayed like that a moment, enjoying the differences in their two hands – hers small and graceful, his larger and calloused from hard work. Then, finally, Will laced their fingers together, and for hours into the night they sat that way, holding hands on the sand.

* * *

AN: I don't normally say anything about the quote at the beginning of the chapter, though I try to found one that fits what's going on within the text, but I do have to comment on this one only because it was such kismet. As I wrote this chapter, I knew exactly what I wanted Will to be feeling and saying, sort of summing up how Elizabeth had changed him, how she'd opened him up, and what she'd meant to him, etc.. Then I was driving home from the grocery store and for the first time ever heard this song playing on the radio. I was not familiar with the song at all, but I was stunned because it was so perfectly describing everything that his character had to say in this chapter. It couldn't have been more fitting to Will and this situation if I wrote it myself specifically for this story. Anyway if you don't already know the song and would like to hear it or simply just read the rest of the lyrics, it's called "The Only Exception" by Paramore. Which is almost exactly the line Will says – freaky, huh? So of course I had to make that the chapter title too.

Also, I usually announce when we've reached the halfway point, and I forgot to this time around. Actually I estimate there are probably 10 – 11 chapters left at this point, with an epilogue or two after that, just because I love to finish things up neat and tidy and give a little glimpse into the future.

Please continue to let me know what you think. Will and Elizabeth are slowly getting there, and I can promise there will be some major moments coming up shortly on the horizon.


	19. Bound

~

* * *

Set me free, leave me be.

I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.

- S. Bareilles

* * *

Early the next morning, on the day before her father would arrive, Elizabeth took off with Anna for a return visit to the shopping centre. Part of the rush was due to the bustling shopping mall being on the opposite side of the island, requiring a lengthy drive. But, if she were honest, it was mainly because she wanted to be up and out before Will had a chance to come find her. The night before he'd asked her to spend the day with him and she'd made a noncommittal, though somewhat favorable, reply. But when she woke up this morning she knew she wouldn't be able to see him. It would just be too hard.

The evening before had been confusing and gut wrenching, to put it mildly. Will had spelled it out for her it no uncertain terms. He'd made if very plain that he was ready to start looking for a serious committed relationship with someone else, sometime down the line. As opposed to with _her_, now. She'd gotten the message loud and clear. But then he spent the rest of the night being sweet and tender, touching her softly and holding her hand into the wee hours. She might have been driven mad by his mixed signals if she didn't perfectly understand what he was aiming at.

Will wanted to find long-term and forever with some other woman….but he wanted her first. There was no denying the attraction between them and, while she was yet here, while there was still time, he wanted to see it though to its natural conclusion – scratch an itch as Elizabeth had once so bluntly put it. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't be that for him, only a pleasing interlude, just ships passing in the night. She'd considered it, she actually had. The idea of giving in to him, giving in to the amazing feeling he brought on whenever he touched her, made her want to say 'yes' in a heartbeat. Yet, if she did, she doubted she could ever truly recover from it – which is what had her running so hard and fast this morning. She was just awfully lucky that Anna was free to be her running companion.

However, Anna knew Elizabeth well, too well to be fooled by her sudden pressing need to shop. While she allowed her the distraction she craved for much of the morning, over a nice long lunch – Elizabeth's treat, as she now had restored access to her credit accounts – Anna began to slowly wheedle the truth out of her friend, who was clearly running scared.

"Remember the last time we were here?" Anna asked her. Subtlety wasn't normally her strong suit, but she instinctively felt a little was required here – at least if she was going to get anywhere.

"Yes. I found a lot of nice things then, including what I'm wearing now," Elizabeth answered, gesturing down to her tasteful, yet sexy, fitted skirt and sheer ruffle blouse with camisole beneath.

"Mm-hmm. And, as I recall, that was when Will was away landing his fancy new contract. You missed him so much it had you all jumpy and seeing him everywhere."

Elizabeth's raised brow and abrupt fascination with her ice tea glass were the only indication she'd heard the statement, but Anna supposed the fact that Elizabeth didn't attempt to deny it was some progress.

"That was also when I first spotted my father's agents," she replied, at length. "I thought I was just seeing things again…..At least, I wished it."

Seeing the distress in her friend's eyes, Anna patted her hand. "You know, you could have told me the truth about who you are. You could have trusted me with that."

"It's not that I didn't trust you," Elizabeth said in all sincerity. "I just didn't want anyone to know. Will and Jack found out from the very beginning; there was no helping that. But I didn't want anyone else to find out. I was trying to escape the truth myself. I just wanted to be a regular person and feel…._normal_ for a change. And I did tell you all the rest: that I'd come from wealth and privilege but had run away from an unhappy life; that I wanted to escape an engagement I'd been pressured into. I only left out the part about being a princess."

Anna considered her closely. "Speaking of which, I heard you mention this James more than once at dinner yesterday. I assume he comes along as part of the package. My only question is," she said inquisitively, "why are you going back to marry this man you obviously don't love?"

Couched in those terms, it made Elizabeth sound foolish, but it was difficult for anyone outside of her situation to understand. "I didn't say I _was_ going to marry him, necessarily. Returning to my country doesn't have to equate to marring James."

"Then why is he coming here to meet you?"

Elizabeth sighed deeply. "Because my father thinks it does."

"So what _are_ you going to do?"

"I don't know. James isn't a bad person, not really. He just wants what he wants. He loves me in his way, but he has the same misguided notions as my father. That's why they get along so well, and why my father chose him for me those years ago."

Anna's expression turned disgusted. "So you're saying this is some kind of an arranged marriage? That's even worse than I thought."

"No, it's not like that exactly. We've known each other for years. Nothing was forced. Marriage wasn't even mentioned until recently. But we were certainly encouraged to get together. I always knew it was my father's intention. It's partially my own fault. I should have said something long ago, before things got this far."

Within her purse, Elizabeth's cell phone vibrated like mad. It was a least the fourth or fifth time it had gone off. Around the third, Anna had watched her turn it to silent mode. Now Elizabeth reached for the phone, read the caller ID then, after a moment of indecision and a look of pure pain crossing her face, she hit ignore.

It didn't take a genius to guess who had been calling her. "What about Will?" Anna finally asked the question of the day. "What happened there? You two were so close to hooking up."

_He doesn't love me_. But that was a terrible thing to admit to herself, let alone anyone else. "It just didn't work out," Elizabeth answered evasively. "You know how Will is."

"True, but he seemed to be making a breakthrough, like he was finally ready to seriously try a real relationship."

"He is. He said so," Elizabeth revealed. In a quieter voice, she added what it hurt unspeakably to say. "Just not with me."

Anna couldn't hide her surprise at that. She'd been so sure that Will was over the moon for Elizabeth. She still wasn't ready to discount that as the truth. Maybe it was just a question of Elizabeth not being available that had Will spooked – and the whole princess thing couldn't help. "Does Will know the truth about you and James?"

"That I'm engaged? He's always known that."

"Yes, _that_ part. But does he know that you don't care a damn about your fiancé?" Anna clarified. "That he wasn't even your choice."

"No," Elizabeth finally divulged, answering Anna's second charge. "He doesn't know that I never wanted to marry James. All I've told Will is that he's twelve years older, we've been 'dating' for seven, and that my father approves. I never let on it was all _his_ idea and not mine." She swirled her straw in her glass contemplatively, before adding with a touch of defensiveness, "But I don't think it's fair for you to say that first part about James. I never wanted to hurt him. I _do_ care about him."

"So much so that you didn't even think twice about selling his ring to finance a new wardrobe meant to seduce another man?"

Elizabeth let out a long, slow breath. "It's complicated," she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her suddenly throbbing temples.

When she opened them again, they were so tortured it made Anna regret pointing out the obvious.

Then, in a low tone of quiet confiding, Elizabeth softly revealed, "We haven't slept together. Everyone thinks we have, but we haven't. We're not really lovers. We kissed, once. Twice, if you count when I was drunk. And…..lots of other times….almost. But I haven't slept with him."

"I know. You told me that when I asked for all the juicy details of what happened that night at the Empress. And I believe you." She gave her friend a shrewd look. "But how far you two have gone wasn't my point at all, although the fact that _you_ jumped to it is telling."

"What are you saying?"

"That I think you have a skewed idea of men and dating."

"Maybe I do." Elizabeth certainly wasn't an experienced seductress. Up until she ran away, she'd never really been out much. And then there was the embarrassing fact that just past her mid-twenties she had still never been with a man….Who was she kidding. She was way out of her league. Look at how she'd misinterpreted Will's signals all this time, back when she thought there was still some hope of their having a future together. "Let's just be honest. I'm _sure_ I do."

Anna smiled at that. "Well do yourself a favor and take some advice from me, a person who's lived in the world a little more than I care to admit. You seem to believe that how physically involved a man and a woman are defines their relationship. You think because you haven't slept with Will it's okay, nothing's really happened, you're safe from him. But being emotionally involved with a man is just as dangerous as being physically involved – more so really; there's no form of protection."

Elizabeth sighed deeply. "I see what you're saying, Anna. I do. And in many ways you're right. Will and I have never been to bed, but I haven't escaped unharmed – far from it. I'm tangled up in this so tight I don't even begin to know how to get loose."

"There's nothing casual about sex, that's for sure – and anyone who tells you otherwise is clearly male," Anna quipped. "But I can still tell you, as someone who's experienced both sides, the emotional is hands down more complicated and hazardous than the physical. If all it is is sex, if that's the only tie you have, it's a lot easier to walk away. But when you have an emotional connection, whether the physical has been there or not, it can tear you in two. Of course, with you and Will, I suspect it's a third scenario – the worst of all."

"What's that?" Elizabeth asked glumly.

"You want him _and_ you love him. Honey, that's a near impossible thing to fight."

"Maybe. But I'm going to try," Elizabeth argued. "I can't keep doing this. It isn't a game. It's my life. And I can't stay here playing around with Will when I know it's leading nowhere."

"Elizabeth." Anna shook her head. "I can't believe that Will doesn't – "

"I'm not saying he's the bad guy here," Elizabeth interrupted. "I believe he really does care for me, as a friend. He must. It shows in all he's done for me, the ways he's helped me when I was no more than a stranger. He's been good to me, and I'm grateful. I'll never forget him, and I'll leave here with no hard feelings towards him." She looked away sadly, fiddling with the straw in her drink again as she miserably said, "It isn't his fault that friendship is all that he can offer."

"With benefits," Anna supplied, suddenly understanding both Elizabeth's skittishness and her preoccupation with the fact that they weren't yet technically lovers. It must be that Will was trying to strike up a physical relationship without once mentioning the fact that he was madly in love with her. Men were such idiots, never willing to make themselves vulnerable and put themselves out there that way.

"Friendship with benefits," Elizabeth soberly confirmed. "But I can't – I _won't_ – do that. I need more."

Just as she finished, her phone went off again. This time she didn't even bother glancing at the screen before she punched 'ignore'.

* * *

It was well after dark when Elizabeth and Anna returned to the Black Pearl. After talking a little while longer, promising that no matter what happened in the days to come they would always remain friends, they said goodnight. Elizabeth was just walking up to her bungalow when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

She stopped short on the stone path and turned, already knowing who she'd find. "Will."

"Elizabeth," he repeated, stepping down from his porch and crossing to her side in just a few quick strides. "Where have you been all day? I was worried sick till Jack told me you were with Anna."

"We were shopping. There were some very nice sales and – "

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I…..I'm not," she hedged. "We never made firm plans last night, and you weren't up yet this morning. It's not as if I ducked out on you or – "

"I called you eleven times, Elizabeth," he said, the resonance of his voice suggesting hurt rather than anger. "You ignored every call. If that isn't avoiding, I don't know what is."

Silence stretched between them as she was unable to answer his accusation. "You're right. I'm sorry," she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled harshly. "It's alright. If you want to spend time with Anna, I understand. I've no hold over you. I just….I just thought, with so little time left, we could spend it together."

"I know. But I….." Elizabeth shrugged helplessly, giving up on finding a suitable explanation. "I couldn't," she told him sadly.

Will nodded, and by some wordless agreement they both started the rest of the way across the walk and up onto her front porch.

"My father's coming tomorrow," she said at last. "In the afternoon. Then I suspect I'll be busy with him, and the preparations for the gala," she explained, her tone flat. But there was genuine feeling in her voice when she added, "I hope to see you there. You are coming, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'll be there."

"I'd like you to meet my father. Before the ball, that is. It will be crawling with media. That's no place for a proper introduction."

"Okay. I'd like that. I mean, if that's what you want." He ran a nervous hand over his bound hair. "I could go with you to meet him at the airport. We could take the Lambretta out one last time."

She smiled faintly. "I would like that." Avoiding his gaze, she took a long, deep breathe, resting her shoulder against the doorjamb. "One last time," she solemnly repeated his words. "And then….."

"And then," Will finished, letting her know it wasn't necessary to spell out the rest. He got it. She was saying that would be the end for them. He just wasn't ready to except it yet.

He studied her carefully, her manner, her expression. The words coming out were right, but something was off. "Why do I get the feeling you're not exactly thrilled about all this?"

"I haven't seen my father in weeks. Why wouldn't I be?"

He gave her a long, penetrating look.

Leave it to Will to see right through her. "Alright. It _will_ be a bit difficult. You know there were problems."

"Yeah," he said, leaning back against the railing, barely able to contain his growing frustration that Elizabeth seemed so determined not to discuss the truth.

She had been so stifled by her family she'd run off, actually jumped overboard with a fifty-fifty shot at survival. Now she referred to it as merely 'problems'. And, whether she cared to admit it or not, there was still unfinished business between them. She hadn't seemed interested in his overtures last night, but it was obvious she was upset now. He'd like to think at least a little of it had to do with their impending goodbye. _He_ was certainly half crazy with the thought of never seeing her again.

Will straightened and crossed the distance to stand before her. "Elizabeth. What are we doing here?" he asked in desperation.

"I….." She toyed uneasily with her purse strap. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?"

His words were soft, but he pinned her in place with his eyes.

"Fine. Maybe I do. But I don't understand this. _You're_ the one who encouraged me to stop hiding, to contact my father, when you had to know what would come next. Isn't this what you wanted?

"Yes." His hands tore up into his hair again, this time unintentionally tugging what was left from its tie. "No."

Elizabeth looked at him in question.

But he backpedaled from his near admission. "I don't want you to feel trapped, to be unhappy."

"What makes you think I will be?" she asked, and Will watched the openness in her eyes begun to close shut, along with the last of his chances.

"_I_ will be. I'll miss you….if you go back." He stepped closer to her, his gaze locking onto hers. "You _are_ going back, aren't you? It's final then."

"I think I have to."

"_Why_? Why do you have to? Why couldn't you stay?"

She couldn't bring herself to admit the truth, that she was so desperately in love with him seeing him everyday that way would only further break her heart. She couldn't stay on that sort of a false pretense, with impossible hopes for something that could never be. The opportunity had come and gone – more than one, in fact – and Will hadn't mentioned one word about wanting to try a legitimate relationship with _her_. She couldn't stay for anything less, but she couldn't even admit that to him. She wouldn't do that to herself or to Will. Letting him know how much she wanted and loved him, how much losing him would hurt her, would only feed the fears he'd just begun to overcome. The truth would ruin whatever progress he'd made. And, anyway, he didn't want her forever, just for now. He ought to think of her. Even if he didn't know that she loved him, it was still an awful thing to ask of a girl.

"I have a father, a fiancé, a _life_ waiting for me," Elizabeth finally answered. "This….." she said, gesturing back and forth in the small space between the two of them. "…..this is just….." She can't go through with saying it was nothing, and a litany of other words suggested themselves to her mind: _Attraction. Chemistry. Passion. One-sided, unrequited love_. "…Well, I'm not sure what it is."

Will held her eyes. "Aren't you?" he asked, meaningfully.

Reaching out, he placed his hand upon her shoulder, his thumb softly rubbing her skin through the sheer fabric. "Aren't you, Elizabeth?" The heat of his hand seeped through the blouse to mingle with her own, and her heart jumped as he slid his fingers across her collarbone to cup the back of neck.

Something from the depth of her soul called to his and she felt herself starting to relent. "It was only supposed to be a holiday," she whispered, her voice lost.

"All sorts of crazy things happen on holiday," he said, soft and low and mesmerizing.

Will's other hand rose to grasp Elizabeth's waist, making her flush hot despite herself.

She almost gave in, almost admitted crazy things do happen, they already _had_ happened. But then she saw his eyes fall to her mouth and a flash of pure hunger light them as he slowly drew her body toward his.

She put her hands on his forearms, stopping him. "Not to me they don't," she said firmly.

His eyes appeared to glaze over and he blinked rapidly, but he seemed to accept her answer.

"So you're really going back then," he said heavily, a sort of morose finality in his voice.

Elizabeth studied Will closely. If she didn't know better, she'd believe she really had hurt him. But she did know better…..didn't she?

"Unless," she began, searchingly, leadingly. "Unless…..Is there…." She'd ask him again, one last time. "Can you give me a reason I shouldn't?"

_I love you_. He pictured himself saying the words….Then he imagined her mouth curling into a tense frown as she whispered a hasty apology that she just didn't feel that way about him. Reality hit hard and swift. Hell, she wouldn't even take his calls. What would make him think she could possibly love him? And still he wanted her to stay with him. "I….."

Elizabeth listened to Will stumble, not knowing what to say – obviously not wanting to say what she wished he would. His back and forth must be because he just wanted sex from her, and because of his mother, because of his rules, because she _had_ become his true friend, he was trying very hard to fight it.

"I – "

"Goodnight, Will," she interrupted, not quite managing to keep the pain from her voice.

But her message still carried loud and clear when she closed the door in his face.

* * *

Though Elizabeth had gone to bed early, she couldn't sleep. There was too much on her mind. Her time on the island was coming to an end. Her father was set to arrive in twelve hours. Things were changing; they had to. It was the how and why that had yet to be worked out. Finally she gave up on sleep altogether and decided on taking a walk instead. That's what she always used to do when she wanted to clear her mind.

Stepping out of her cabana at nearly half past twelve, she knew she probably should have changed from her nightgown but just didn't want to take the time. Though it was white and the fabric light, it wasn't see-through. The neckline criss-crossed across her breasts, revealing a noticeable expanse of cleavage, but not anything obscene, and its hem stopped just above the knee. All and all, she felt she was decent even if she should run into someone, which she doubted. This was the private area of the resort, so guests were not an issue. By now, Jack and Anna would either be just finishing up their nightshift or bunking down in one of their two cabanas. And she could see that Will must be asleep. There wasn't a single light on at his place.

So she boldly stepped out barefoot into the night, heading for the serenity of the quiet little beach just beyond Will's bungalow. There was so much on her mind, so much in her heart, and she had the monumental task of trying to sort it all out and figure out what she should do.

Despite how difficult it was to simply be around Will anymore, this was about so much more than just him. The simple truth was, Will or no Will, Elizabeth couldn't imagine going back to her old world. She'd carved out a life for herself here. For the first time, she had a place of her own, friends of her choosing, independence and freedom to do whatever she wanted in life – what she wanted, when she pleased, the chance to make a path of her own. She couldn't tolerate the idea of giving that up and regressing into the mindless obedient role she'd been forced to play all of her life. She'd found something more here. It couldn't be denied or ignored. Nothing could ever be the same again. The thought of trying to make it so was unbearable.

Before she'd jumped ship and run away, before all this had begun, she'd felt little more than a hostage. There was always something she had to do, someone she had to please, some lofty standard to live up to. She'd been suffocating trying to live up to their dictates, to fit into their mold. The impatient superiority with which she was spoken to by those around her, including occasionally her fiancé and at times even her father, didn't help matters.

It wasn't easy knowing that those you were closest to had no care or tolerance for your true thoughts and feelings. Her independent streak, her freethinking, and nonconformity had always set her at odds with those in her world. And James, he was just another example – a large one, but par for the course. She had never really wanted to marry him, but it had seemed inevitable. The idea of seeking love and passion in matrimony had always appealed to her. She'd forever been a true romantic at heart. But there didn't seem to be any other options. The man of her dreams had never come along and it appeared there was very little chance he ever would. It didn't make the idea of wedded life with James any more appealing, but perhaps a little more acceptable.

Though the fact that she'd ran away couldn't be discounted. And right now, to be perfectly honest with herself, the thought of returning to her country and marrying James was like facing a jail sentence, like a cage waiting to close around her and lock her up forever.

But what would her father say if she admitted as much? At the very least he'd be painfully disappointed in her. At the worst he could attempt to forbid it. Why did everything have to be so complicated, so hard?

Letting out a long, restless puff of breath, she curled her toes into the soft sand. At least she could enjoy the quiet serenity of the tropical atmosphere, the majestic palms and fronds and strikingly colorful flowers. It all made for a truly stunning ambiance. And it was a beautiful night – not to humid, not to cool, with a light breeze to tease the skin. The half-moon and stars overhead, without a hint of clouds on the horizon, made it complete. She didn't know exactly when it had happened, but Elizabeth had come to love it here and think of this island, not the faraway shores of Europe, as home.

Walking along the shore, she saw the few tiny lights from Tortuga that always glowed softly in the night. She'd seen them that very first night but hadn't known until Will had told her what the teeny little island actually was. She thought back on his description of Tortuga…_A__ lover's destination_, he had called it. _Shangri-la. D__esigned for romance, pleasure, and seduction_.

A little Shangri-la in her up-until-now painfully empty life sounded lovely, but she knew no one was enjoying its splendor tonight. Only Jack's innermost circle was permitted its use, and Will had sworn the place off. That left little more than Jack himself, who she knew had been busy at the Empress tonight.

Thoughts of Shangri-la, on Tortuga or otherwise, brought her mind inescapably to Will – but, then again, everything brought her mind to Will, especially being on their beach. Looking around the white sand and darkened shore, she was flooded with memories of what they'd shared: the night before Will went away for the weekend, when they'd ate ice cream, sang pirates songs, laid in each other's arms…..and almost kissed, until the rainstorm; last night, when they'd held hands, talking into the early morning hours – and he'd revealed he was ready to start looking for a serious relationship.

Elizabeth was happy for Will and the breakthrough he'd made; she really was. He was a good man. He didn't deserve this self-imposed isolation. He ought to be happy. He ought to be in love. But why did he have to look elsewhere? Why couldn't he have already found it here, with her? She had found everything with him.

She adored all that Will was; his quiet strength, his dependability, his compassion, his sensitivity – not to mention his charm and gallant charisma. And of course the fact that he was sinfully handsome in a way that made a woman all dreamy-eyed and weak inside. He was sweet, endearing, and sexier than any man had a right to be. In short, he was positively irresistible. She hadn't stood a chance from the beginning. How could she do anything but love him?

Every time she saw him, every time she was with him, it just made it worse because every little thing, every moment together, only served to emphasize how very perfect he was for her. Will was so intuitive. He understood her in a way that no one else ever had. It was almost as if he could see inside of her and read her every thought and feeling. And being with him was indescribable. It was liberating and exciting. With him she could have her long-denied freedom and simply be herself. With him she'd found real, true happiness for the first time ever.

Growing up as a teenager, Elizabeth had dreamed of the sort of man she'd like to one day meet and marry, which she supposed wasn't all that different from other girls her age. But her dreams were never realized. Far from it. She was bereft of any real friendship, either male or female. She led a largely solitary existence, forced to be someone that she wasn't, pushed at suitors she could never love. By the time she'd reached her early twenties, loneliness had become a way of life, and though she still held on to her dreams – if perhaps a bit modified in her growing maturity – it seemed as if such a man didn't exist, or at the very least that she would never have the chance to cross his path if he did.

Then when she finally found the courage – though it was while under the influence of narcotics – to stand up for herself and escape the life she hated, she'd run into Will. And suddenly the world opened up for her and life finally made sense. He was literally everything she'd wanted to find, every romantic fantasy since the age of sixteen come to life. And yet there was a dichotomy, a paradox about him – about _being_ with him – that was more than she ever could have imagined, but felt exactly right. It was a seeming paradox, an overlapping duality that fascinated her.

Being with Will, she found a soothing peace. He made her feel warm and understood, safe and cared for. Yet, at the same time, he made her feel fire, excitement, heat, and tempestuous passion. All at once it was both safe and wild, soft and tender yet intense and out of control. It seemed a contradiction in terms that one man could make her feel such wildly varying emotions, like two sides of a coin, but he did – sometimes even at the same time. With him, she had the soft and comfortable, warm and fuzzy side of love and also the hot, fiery, sensual, seduction that up until now she'd only read about and seen in films.

Passion had always come easily for them. With Will, Elizabeth had found a thrill she'd never known before. It was only later, when she'd really begun to be honest with herself, that she realized her physical connection, her attraction, to him was all the more profound _because_ of the emotional; because she loved him, she wanted him all the more. That desire was so deep and powerful and overwhelming because it _wasn't_ superficial. But what little good it did her to know this because it was all going to come to naught in the end.

If she left, that would be it, though her existence would be all the harder for now knowing what it was like to truly live and love and be happy. But if she stayed, even for a little while longer, and gave into the attraction, she sensed she'd be just as doomed. Will was a good man and he'd never purposefully hurt her, she knew. But in the end she feared he would hurt her without even trying. He already was.

Yet she couldn't simply walk away and pretend none of it had ever happened. Even if Will never would, never could, love her she was foolish to try to make him a nonentity. She _had_ met him. She _had_ fallen in love. Though he didn't return that love, she was going to have to deal with the fallout for years to come. These next few days would be nothing short of slow torture. Going with Anna hadn't worked, going for a walk hadn't worked, being with her father wouldn't work, seeing James certainly wasn't going to work. It was always something: the spot where they'd shared brunch, the beach where they'd swam together, the bar where they'd joined in on Carnival preparations, the club where they'd danced more intimately than she'd even known was possible. As long as she was here, she would be haunted by Will, by how much she loved him…..by what could have been.

Anna was right. She had been impossibly naïve in thinking at the start if she simply didn't get physically involved with Will she could walk away unscathed and unaffected, as if they'd never met. It was obvious to her, now that the time had come, that wasn't anywhere close to the truth. Still, jumping into bed with Will – and not even that much, just touching him, holding him, kissing him – would be a huge mistake when he wasn't in love with her but _she_ was with him. Especially when he'd made clear that the touching and the kissing was all he wanted from her anymore.

Elizabeth was innately an all-or-nothing woman. She couldn't accept just a little from Will, close but not quite there. That was her true struggle. The rest of it – passion and love versus duty and convention – would be difficult to surmount but nothing she wouldn't readily take on. She would have Will in her life, she would make them accept him and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, if only he wanted that – wanted _her_ – forever, not just here and now.

She sighed as she made her way back up their beach, despite herself thinking that 'here and now' nevertheless sounded awfully good…..And Will could easily convince her of that too. She'd found that out in spades. Elizabeth had always prided herself on being such a strong woman. She hadn't kept quiet all these years, gone along and played a role, because she was afraid to speak up, but only because she felt that's what duty called for. From time to time, when it became too much, she _had_ spoken her mind, she had shown her independence and felt all the wiser and stronger because of it. She thought she was fierce. She thought she was tenacious. She thought she was unyielding and unstoppable. She could handle anyone and anything that came her way.

And then there was Will. With one look, with one word, he broke past all her defenses. And though she could be so sure, so certain that she shouldn't get involved with him, so positive that she could be strong enough to do the right thing for herself and walk away, with one touch he weakened her. With two she was all but defenseless. He had this power over her, this invisible hold on her that was intangible but as powerful as any lock, as any bars. He'd been horrified to see her handcuffed, held by chains after their arrest, but the ironic truth was the binds he had on her, intentional or not, proved to be even tighter and far more painful…..and thoroughly unbreakable.

And just when she'd begin to think she wouldn't mind belonging to him – being hopelessly and helplessly his – because he seemed to feel at least a little of the same for her, something always came along to crush that, whether it was his refusal to ask her to stay, his confession that he wanted to find a serious relationship with some indeterminate woman, or that fact that what he craved from her was sex and not love. But then there were his softer moments, when he was sweet and caring and open towards her, and it made her think maybe, just maybe, there was hope again. But with Will it was forever one step forward and two steps back. He seemed to want her, but not enough.

Elizabeth stopped in front of her bungalow, gazing over at Will's, thinking of the man himself. Ultimately, she was too upset and conflicted to go in yet, so she kept walking into the courtyard. She felt too wounded, too raw, too distressed. It was just too much. How simpler, how much easier it would have been if they'd never met. Will was good and he'd been kind to her, but what he was doing now, the last time they'd spoken, was anything but kind. He was keeping her from moving on and it just wasn't fair.

She'd spent the day trying to do without him. It clearly wasn't working, but she had to try something. And just when she'd gotten over the worst of it, when she started to think perhaps she could do this after all, she could deal with the pain and withdrawal, he had to confront her, he had to dredge everything up again, make her long for him, make her love him. If he didn't really want her long-term why couldn't he just let her alone instead of making her fall father, making it so much harder to go back, to ever move on?

A part of her wanted to blame him, a part her wanted to be angry with him. But it fizzled and died as quickly as it rose. She couldn't be mad at Will. She couldn't _make_ him love her. He'd had a harsh, traumatizing childhood and grown up to be an emotionally unavailable man. She'd understood the dangers from the beginning and still she'd gotten involved. It was _her_ that had kissed _him_, both the night of their date at Calypso and after she'd gotten drunk at the Empress. She'd brought this on herself.

It was a heartbreaking situation, one that had no good solution. She knew all this, and yet she couldn't let him go.

Elizabeth continued to walk aimlessly into the night, distracted by her thoughts, when soft splashing finally registered to her ears – more so than the usual trickling from the waterfall – and she noticed the shadow passing across the gentle glow of the lights directly ahead. She stopped short, but it was too late. Without even realizing it, her feet had carried her to the pool, which was lit up and alive, and in the heated waters below a very wet, very half-naked man was swimming.

Shaking his damp hair from his face, he glanced up and saw her at almost the exact moment she spotted him. His mouth fell open just a little, as if he meant to speak. No words came out but his eyes stayed intently trained on her.

"H-Hello, Will," Elizabeth managed to sputter.

* * *

AN: I realize there was a lot of inner dialogue and introspection at the end of this chapter, but I believe it was necessary to show Elizabeth's current state of mind. She is upset. She is conflicted and hurting, very emotional and extremely vulnerable. This will play a key role in the next chapter…..which I'll confess is another one I've been looking so forward to. I _love_ this next scene that's coming up. I hope you will too.


	20. Too Late

~

* * *

How can I ever close the door and be the same as I was before?

Darling, no. No, I can't anymore. It's too late now.

- A. J. Lerner

* * *

Elizabeth could hardly believe her eyes. She hadn't expected to run into anyone while out walking in the middle of the night, least of all Will and certainly not swimming. It didn't help that the picture laid out before her hardly seemed real, but something straight out of a dream.

The teardrop shaped pool and the water spilling down from its raised rock outcropping seemed to glow from within, curtsy of its underwater lighting system. The firepots built into the stone facing of the pool's outer edge were lit, flickering and flaming, creating shadows across the lush tropical shrubbery – and upon the man who now stood directly in front of the waterfall.

It slowly began to sink in that she was just standing there dumbstruck but, curiously enough, he was doing the same thing, just looking at her. Staring was more like it.

In the shock of seeing him there unexpectedly before her, looking gorgeous and virile – his hair falling damp and free, the soft glow of the fire creating a sheen on his rock-hard abs, inexorably drawing her eye – for a moment she'd forgotten what she was wearing. But, beneath his intent gaze, it came crashing back.

"Will, I…" She picked at the light fabric, suddenly feeling self-conscious and embarrassed.

Will had yet to recover the ability of speech. After tossing and turning for hours, unable to get Elizabeth off his mind or heart, he'd finally given up and in desperation went to burn some energy off in the pool. All at once finding her there, in the flesh, with him was almost too much to take. And the way she looked…

She was wearing some sort of a short nightgown, that much registered in his suddenly overheated mind. It was filmy and flowing and white, making her skin appear all the more tanned in contrast. The thin straps and sleeveless cut pulled his attention to the slope of her gorgeous bare shoulders, and further, to follow the plunging neckline to the swell of her breasts. Her hair was left down, glossy and loose and tumbled about the shoulders he had an overpowering urge to run his mouth across. Awareness stirred in him and he knew now there was no way he'd be getting to sleep tonight any time soon.

"I – I don't know what you must be thinking of me," Elizabeth said awkwardly, "walking around by myself at night, wearing only this."

She was obviously flustered and would be even more so if she did know his current thoughts; they were both carnal and imaginative.

A sudden kick of warm wind made the soft, diaphanous voile of the nightgown cling to her body, highlighting her curves, and his slow thorough gaze swept her from head to toe. She was a goddess, positively stunning…..and Norrington got to see her this way all the time, and in even less, the lucky bastard.

Will made no reply to her comment on the nightgown, but his eyes made a meal of her and Elizabeth felt the instant rise in heat. "I…." She paused, clearing her throat. "I didn't expect to see anyone."

She was obviously sexy, a fact that had his entire body sparking to attention, but there was also a soft, vulnerable sweetness to her that stirred him like no other woman before, all the more so tonight. "That's alright," he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. "I don't mind if you don't."

He was trying to put her at ease. That much she was thankful for. But there was nothing easy about this situation, particularly the way she was feeling right now. Although it went against everything she'd stood for her entire life, the best thing to do would be to turn tail and run at her earliest opportunity. Yet to do so now would look ridiculous. She had no other option but to do her best to make small talk until an escape presented itself.

"It's a little odd to be out here in the water in the middle of the night," she commented.

"I could say the same thing about your little stroll."

"Touché," she smiled. "Then how about we make a pact that neither one of us questions the other on our late-night foibles?"

"It's a deal."

Elizabeth hesitated uncertainly, and he could see that she wanted to flee. Didn't that just define their relationship in a nutshell: him wanting her to stay and her with the insurmountable urge to run? But how could he ever let her, either tonight or in the days to come?

They had been friends once. There had been an ease between them and there'd been no running, but the attraction had inevitably gotten in the way – that and the fact that he was in love with her, but either one he was powerless to fight. And he didn't want to. Why did she make him _have_ to?

He was empty before her. She had given his life meaning. He'd let her inside completely and she'd obliterated his rules, proving how detrimental and foolish they were. She had wholly and thoroughly healed him. How could he ever live without her now? He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her. If only he could somehow convince her to stay.

It suddenly hit Will that right now, this very moment, could be his last chance. Her father was arriving in the morning. He may never have another moment alone with her. He had to make this one count…..but how? He was fresh out of ideas. He'd tried everything.

He shifted in the water and she followed the movement. He watched her eyes travel down his chest and abdomen, beneath the water, to where his trunks hung low on his hips. She took an unconscious step toward him, and that's when it struck him swift and fast.

Trying to delve into the emotional, talking about his feelings and wanting a long-term relationship with her, had gotten him nowhere. If anything he'd lost ground. But the physical, that was the one unfailing way she responded to him. Elizabeth had never spoken a word about any kind of emotional feelings for him, but he knew that she wanted him. This attraction, this pull between them, was the one avenue she seemed to have a weakness in. As much had been proven time and time again.

He knew now that he could've made a move on her that night at the Empress. After the fact, he realized that she'd been coming on to him the entire time. It seemed obvious now, and it would have been then if she were any other woman. Then it would have been easy. But with Elizabeth it was different. He was in love with her, and that affected everything – his confidence, his game, certainly his thought process. Elizabeth was special, in a whole league of her own, and he'd wanted to do right by her…..whatever that was.

But now that he'd realized she truly did want him, that at least on that one occasion she'd been seemingly inviting him into her bed, it changed everything. Will wanted Elizabeth in far more than just his bed alone, but it was a place to start. They were getting nowhere with talking and emotions, but when they were in each other's arms they always went somewhere fantastic and beautiful. If he could win her _that_ way – if he pursued her, persuaded her, broke her down – once they'd been together, once they had made love, it might be easier to convince her how good they could be as a couple, that there were reasons for her to want to stay and he was a very big one of them. If he couldn't get her to fall in love with him, if she wouldn't stay for that, then maybe he _could_ get her to stay for freedom, excitement – and really great sex.

Will looked up at Elizabeth and caught her eyes trailing over him again. With his gaze now on her, she bit her lip and glanced away, studying the waterfall behind him. In that moment, he knew this could work. He could coax her, entice her, seduce her, and maybe in the end convince her to give him a chance.

Either way, whether he was successful or he failed miserably, he was through playing it safe. Time was fleeting. It was now or never, and if she left the island she would leave here knowing that she could have had him, that he was absolutely hers for the taking.

"Why don't you stay?" Will softly proposed.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, distracted, prying her eyes from the cascading water.

He drifted further towards the side of the pool. "Now that we've run into each other, unplanned as it was, why don't you stay awhile? Sit here with me."

She paused in indecision, then finally capitulated, lowering herself to the edge of the pool and sinking her legs into the heated water.

Will immediately swam over to her, stopping within touching distance. "I knew I'd win you over to my side sooner or later," he said, his eyes teasing.

"The dark side?" she teased right back.

He laughed. "I'll let you decide."

She gave him a wistful smile, turning suddenly serious. "There's nothing dark about you."

"Oh, I don't know. You've only seen the good parts of me." Her eyes dipped to his chest and she blushed slightly, alerting Will to the second meaning of his words – one he hadn't intended, but he decided to run with. "Well, not the _best_ parts, but I'm willing to show you those too."

Her face heated but she accepted his flirtation without looking away, a slight smile dancing on her lips. And all Will could think was how he could build something with this woman. Their connection – both the one that sizzled between them now and in the soft, gentle sharing they did over dinner and nights on the beach – was instantaneous and powerful. She must have felt it too, at least something of it.

He was about to offer her more flirtatious banter when he saw her smile waver and her eyes dim. In fact, now that he studied her more closely, her usually bright eyes were downright sad. She looked troubled and unhappy, and he instantly forgot his seduction.

"Why were you really out walking, Elizabeth?" She appeared ready to protest, but he interrupted. "I know we said no questions, but something's wrong. I can tell."

"Yes," she answered, looking down at him. "Somehow you always can."

She paused, her eyes narrowed in deep thought, but Will didn't push her, just quietly waited for her to continue.

"I couldn't sleep. I've been thinking about going – " She tripped over the word home, instead settling on, " – back to my country." She let out a little sigh. "I don't believe my father fully realizes my reluctance to return to the way things were."

A thousand questions entered his mind, chief amongst them 'then why go back at all', but he stayed quiet, letting her confide in him on her own terms.

"Do you remember that night on the beach, before you went away and won your contract?"

How could he forget? That was one of many nights that frequently replayed in his dreams, only with decidedly different endings. But he kept that to himself, simply nodding.

"I told you that night that no one in my old life really knew me, and you asked if they _couldn't_ see me or if they just _wouldn't_. I said either way it didn't make a difference, but it does."

Will could hear the sadness in her voice, and his world tilted. She filled his heart so completely with her light and her laughter, her mischievous free spirit. All he wanted to do was make things right for her but there seemed to be roadblocks at every avenue. He hurt for her, for what she was going through. He edged closer to her, lifting his hand from the water to rest beside hers on the pool's edge.

"I don't…..I don't think they see me _completely_, but they do see parts of me they don't recognize and don't like," she continued, her expression shadowed. "They see them and they're terrified of them because, ultimately, who I am really doesn't matter to them as much as who they want me to be. And all the things I want, the person I truly am inside, stands in the way of their perfect version of me."

"Well I like the real you," he told her sincerely. "The Elizabeth I've come to know and care for."

Her heart stumbled and tipped on its side. Will knew her, really knew her, on a deep level: her thoughts her dreams, her fears. And, more still, he approved. He was the only one in her life who hadn't tried – who didn't _want_ – to change her.

Her mouth stretched into a slow half smile as she looked down into his fathomless eyes. "I'm glad _you_ do, if no one else."

"It shouldn't matter what _anyone_ else thinks, and least of all whether or not they approve. But, if you want to know, I'll tell you what I think."

"I do want to know. Someone else's opinion of me, the real me," she amended, "might help."

"Not about you. I already told you, I think you're fantastic," he freely divulged as he looked up at her. "What I think about this situation."

"Okay," she said softly, digesting the complement. "That too."

"I think you've spent your entire life living for everyone else, and it's long past time you started living for yourself."

"I'm not sure I know how," Elizabeth admitted.

Will wadded closer to her, sending up a current of water that tickled her legs. "I think a good start would be going after exactly what you want, whatever that might be, and not settling for anything less."

"Spoken so simply," she pensively returned. "But I'm afraid it won't be that easy. Sometimes I think they can't even hear me anymore. They won't stop wanting to me conform. They're going to try any way they can to change me."

"Don't let them," he said, with a soft intensity in his voice and eyes that pinned her in place. "Whatever you do, don't let that happen. Swear to me you won't."

Her lips curved into a helpless smile. "Alright. I swear."

Will had a way of making her feel like the only woman alive for him, the only one that mattered, but it was all an illusion. The cruelest irony was that he was going to hurt her without even meaning to because this, whatever it was between them, couldn't last. But at the moment it didn't matter. At the moment, she wouldn't allow herself to think about it, only to feel cherished and adored, the way he was making her feel now.

"If you need it, if you want it, I promised I would help you and I meant it," he pledged with a quiet strength that touched her.

What was she ever going to do without this man? She couldn't even imagine her life without him in it. Elizabeth looked down at Will, her heart in her eyes, setting her hand atop his and squeezing it gently. "I know."

She seemed to be more lighthearted now which, in turn, cheered Will, and he was doubly encouraged by the fact that she touched him first. That she was the one to initiate physical contact had to be a good sign.

Elizabeth returned her fingers to curl over the pool's edge and began lazily stirring her legs in the warm water.

To Will, she looked nothing less than resplendent sitting there, her sun-streaked hair fluttering gently about her face in the moonlight. And, leaning over him the way she was, he had an excellent view of her long, slender neck – and more than just a peek of cleavage where her nightgown gapped. In fact, if she just leaned a little further…

"Well, no matter what happens, I can look at the bright side," she said, interrupting his amorous thoughts.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"If nothing else, I had an excellent holiday."

"Right. And at the very least you got to meet Jack, something you won't soon forget."

"True," Elizabeth laughed. "But what I enjoyed even more, what I'm _certain_ to never forget, was meeting you."

Will reached up and softly tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her skin and he saw something in her eyes and her smile shift. They'd been circling around each other far too long. It was time to go after what they both wanted, here and now.

He covered her hand with his where it still rested on the stone edging and, when she didn't pull away, he moved in closer, crossing from her side to stand directly before her, mere inches from her legs.

Elizabeth, trying very hard to keep her cool, continued, "Just don't tell Jack I said so."

He grinned, setting her pulse humming. "Your secret is safe with me."

She couldn't help but give herself a mental shake of the head as she felt the last of her resolve begin to slip away. How had she ever thought she could overcome this? His smile, his voice, the way that everything within her reacted to him, was indelibly imprinted on her heart.

"You know," Will said, rubbing circles into the back of her hand, his rough thumb passing across her skin over and over again, "I think it's fate, us meeting up together like this."

"You do?"

"I do," he answered, watching her reaction carefully as he switched from rubbing her hand to reach beneath the water for her foot.

"Why?" she asked, faltering on the word as his hand moved over her foot to cup the back of her heel, his thumb working its magic across her ankle.

"Because you never had your chance to try out the pool."

His hand moved up to stroke her calf and Elizabeth felt an immediate spark.

"Why don't you come in now?" he asked, his voice low. "The water's fine."

"I, ah, I don't have my suit."

Will gave her a provocative smile that said what words didn't: for what he had in mind she didn't need one.

"No, thank you," she demurred. "I'm good where I am."

"Are you?" he challenged, his hand moving up and then down her leg, his palm teasing her soft skin.

Her fingers tightened on the pool's edge and he watched her breath quicken, but still she said, "Yes, I am."

"You wanted to go in the pool before, the night we went out to the Empress. You begged me to take you for a swim," he reminded her, his fingers gliding over her leg beneath the water.

She looked down into the deep brown eyes that held the power to drive her out of her mind and bring her back again. "Yes, well, I haven't the strength at the moment."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he joined his other hand into his efforts, giving both her legs equal treatment. "Come play with me, Elizabeth," he cajoled, his tone suggestive.

"No," she shook her head, though it was obvious she was quickly losing the fight. "No games."

"I promise you, this one you'll like."

She sighed, almost imperceptibly. "That was never the question."

Will let out a low husky laugh, looking down and back up her body. He couldn't help himself; she was so beautiful, so desirable. "I could teach you to swim like I taught you to dance," he offered.

"You know I know how to swim," Elizabeth countered. But his statement achieved its goal of making her recall their time at the Empress.

She knew what he was doing, but gazing down at his long inky lashes, his face so dark and sultry in the moonlight as he touched her, she was almost past caring. He stirred her like no man ever had. The mere looks he gave singed her.

"I remember when we swam together. It was fun. But it was funnier still helping you with your sunscreen," he told her wickedly.

She smiled, and just like that found herself reliving their times together, moments she would remember as long as she lived. "Yes. You were very concerned with solar radiation."

"I was concerned with touching you," Will admitted.

To emphasize the point, he enticingly caressed her legs, making her want him so the sheer need for him was nearly overpowering, and a tellingly honest response slipped out. "I was concerned with being touched."

"I remember the night we got caught in the rainstorm."

"We didn't swim then."

"No, but a beach was involved. It got awfully interesting until the rain came." He smiled, the images of that night playing through his head. "Though I've got to say, wet looks awfully good on you."

She tipped her head to the side, considering him. He was undeniably, incredibly good-looking. Devastatingly sexy was more like it, she corrected as she followed the length of his body with her eyes to where it disappeared beneath the waterline, just below his tanned sculpted abdomen. His eyes were on her dark and intense, and a sinful smile played across his lips. Everything about him was sensual, from the way he looked, to the way he spoke, to the way he continued to fondle her legs beneath the warm water.

And she knew. It was too late for her, plain and simple. It was far past the point of forgetting him, of one day getting over him, of ever being able to move on to someone else. She could never be the same again without him. It was just too late. She was inescapably his.

"But of all the times we've spent together," Will disclosed, "I especially liked how we danced." He gave her a calculated look. "Do you remember how we danced, Elizabeth?" he asked, his voice low and silky. "The way it felt. How our bodies fit, how we moved together perfectly."

She never could put up much of a defense when he spoke to her in that tone, the way he was now. "I remember."

His eyes deliberately seduced her, his gaze inching over her in an almost tactile way. Her pulse ran hot, both from the way he was looking at her and the way she felt when _she_ looked at _him_. He was mouthwateringly tantalizing, all bronzed skin and lean, ripped muscles. He turned her on more than she even knew was possible. She was compulsively drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. There was no stopping it. She felt a pull of desire so strong it had her unconsciously leaning in toward him.

Emboldened, Will moved his hand up to her knee.

"Remember later that night?" he asked, his palm smoothing over her skin. "How I put you to bed? You tried to put _me_ to bed, but I don't hold that against you."

"I was drunk," she defended. But she was feeling squirmy, her thoughts were getting muddled, and it was increasingly hard to remember the reasons why this was a bad idea.

His eyes heated and sparkling, his dark gaze resting intently on her face, Will slowly slid his hand up beneath the nightgown to her thigh and watched her breath catch.

Elizabeth felt a curl of heat spread through her and the now-familiar urgency rise. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't fight it, couldn't deny it, couldn't resist it. She wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her body, to give herself to him in the way she never had any man.

His accent thicker in his desire, Will whispered, "You're not drunk now, Elizabeth."

Her gaze slid to his and clung, and she was in thrall, held by his dark smoldering eyes.

"I meant what I said about missing you," he told her, the timbre of his voice deepening, sending little chills through her body that made her yearn for him all the more. "Elizabeth?" he asked when she failed to reply.

"Late," her non sequitur came at length. "It's late."

"It is," Will softly agreed, removing his hand from beneath her nightgown. "In more ways than one. But you're still here now. It's not too late."

Reaching up, her set his hands to her waist and pulled her into the water.

She expelled a soft sound of surprise as he tugged her to him but she didn't protest, setting her hand to his neck, her other elbow resting atop his shoulder. He leaned back halfway, his body supporting hers as he slowly floated them to the deeper waters of the pool's center, away from any quick escape.

The way Will was holding her, just slightly above him, his arms wrapped tightly around her, he filled Elizabeth's senses. She felt utterly surrounded by him, engulfed in his masculinity, in his scent, in the feel of him.

Her body relaxed into his, fluid and feminine, hard to soft, and it was a fantastic contrast. Her hair tickled his neck where it fell down against him, the ends darkening as they dipped into the water, soaking it up the way he was now soaking her up. His gaze swept over her features, looking for a hint of objection or misgiving, but all he saw in her was awareness and excitement.

Turning his mouth up ever so slightly, he kissed the hollow of her throat, feeling her pulse throbbing madly beneath his lips. Then, reaching their destination, he set her to her feet but kept his arms around her, enveloping her in his heat.

Will held her flush against him, her breasts pressed into his chest and he felt what he earlier suspected: she wore nothing beneath the nightgown. Passion bloomed between them, settling low in his belly, and his jaw tightened.

The look he gave her scorched Elizabeth from the inside out. His dark chocolate eyes –once soft and tender, now carnal and hungry – seared into hers. Her heart beat impossibly fast, and when he looked at her that way she couldn't help but move restlessly against him. That day on the beach when they swam in the ocean – the one he reminded her of earlier – when he held her to him amidst the pounding waves, she thought that was what it was like to fall, to sink, but no, this is what it felt like to drown. She wanted him so badly she couldn't breathe.

Reaching up, she pressed her hand to his face, tenderly cupping his cheek. Desire darkened his eyes and he turned his mouth to the side, first kissing then sucking the center of her palm. She shivered.

Just as he'd said, her warm gentle curves fit to his body perfectly, setting off every nerve ending. His eyes went to that soft mouth of hers, needing to taste her more than his next breath. He knew that she desired him. He felt it earlier in the kick of her pulse. But he wanted this to be more than a moment of weakness, a temporary dropping of her guard. He wanted to see her wholly give in, to freely completely surrender herself to him.

Will's hand rose to cradle the back of her neck and he drew his thumb along the skin beneath her ear, his soft knowing touch whispering of so much more to come. He was warm, hard, potent, and Elizabeth wanted more of him – _all_ of him. The consequences were huge; she felt the weight of them, the niggling sense of doom in the back of her mind. But still she wanted him.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyelids half closed, her lips parted in an unmistakable invitation. He ached to devour her, but he forced himself to maintain some control. He wanted to be slow, to savor this moment. And he wanted to bring her right to the edge, till she went beyond mere consenting to eager, impatient fervor.

Dipping his head, he rubbed the tip of his nose against hers again and again, his mouth so close, almost kissing her, teasing her into she trembled. Then he brushed his lips across hers, just barely grazing them, setting off tingles of wanting in her. He nudged his lips lightly, softly, repeatedly over hers until she was practically beside herself with desire. And, finally, he answered the yearning, bending fully to her mouth and settling his lips over hers.

Will's mouth moved against hers, soft and sweet, and Elizabeth was pulled under, past thought, past care, past the point of return. There was a sense of homecoming, a rightness to his kiss, to his embrace, that swept all else aside. And soon the small, gentle kisses he bestowed lengthened into one slow, steady, burning kiss. His tongue traced her closed lips, tasting her, making her melt inside, and when he pressed her body closer to his she opened her lips to him. He readily slipped his tongue inside her mouth, sliding it slowly over hers, stroking her enticingly. He explored her, licking the inside of her lower lip, teasing the roof of her mouth, igniting her with another hot, soft thrust of his tongue against hers. Their tongues dueled, mated briefly, but then she pulled away, ending the kiss.

Will felt Elizabeth draw back and thought that this was it. He had overstepped his boundaries and ruined whatever ghost of a chance he might have had. But, when he looked at her, there was no hint of anger or refusal about her, quite the opposite. In fact the look in her eyes completely slayed him. The want, the need, absolutely devastated him.

Reaching out, she tentatively brushed her fingers over the bare skin of his pecs, then boldly flattened her hand on his chest. Hunger and dark lust flared in his eyes as his body instantly reacted. He wanted her so badly he could hardly see straight. It took all of his strength of will to stand there still and controlled, letting her take her time, letting her set the pace, rather than immediately ravage her as every cell in his body ached to do.

If Elizabeth sensed the tenuous reign Will had on his libido, she showed no signs of it bothering her. She was too far lost in a sensual haze, her hands on his chest, once hesitant, now freely stroking the hot, sleek flesh. She felt hard muscles jump and ripple against her palms and she caressed him all the more, loving the feel of him beneath her fingers.

Her touch sparked something wild and frantic deep inside him and he growled in his throat as she ran her hands up over his chest to his arms. She watched his eyes go smoky, burning with an intensity that left her breathless, and she leaned in for another lingering kiss.

Will needed no further encouragement. The moment her hungry lips touched his, he slanted his mouth over hers, taking it with a nearly uncontainable lust. Her lips immediately opened to him, allowing him inside. She tasted hot and sweet, absolutely incredible. When her tongue sought his, wanting more, he deepened the contact. And that was it. The kiss spiraled out of control. His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her for his kiss as he devoured her, sliding his tongue slowly in and out of her mouth, teasing her, tantalizing her – making love to her mouth as he longed to her body – until finally she used her own tongue to ensnare his, sucking it back to her. And he took all that she offered, breathing her into his soul, as she returned his kiss with equal passion, giving herself up to him completely.

Elizabeth was positively swept away, stroking and kneading his biceps while they each tried to quench a yearning that proved to be insatiable. Completely incognizant of the world around them, he wrapped his arms tight to her body, molding her soft curves against him, threading his fingers into her silky hair. The velvety heat of her mouth was intoxicating and he drank her in, kissing her long and deep, with meaning and urgency. With a nuzzle of his mouth, a sweep of his tongue, he made her come alive in his arms. There was no longer even a trace of holding back on her part. She was responsive, eager, and hungry, grabbing his shoulders and tugging him further into her embrace.

Their passion intensified, becoming insistent and ravaging. Will kissed her with a deep drugging heat, sliding his hand to the base of her spine. Pressing her nearer to him, he fit his hips to hers and Elizabeth felt a white-hot rush of desire. She made a lost sound, a soft helpless little murmur and, acting on a visceral impulse, strained closer, kissing him with a near desperation. Her response was instinctive and uninhibited as she melted into him, hot and liquid, soft and supple and yielding in his arms, pouring all the pent-up emotion and desire since the moment they met into their kiss.

There was surrender in the taste of her and a rough groan rumbled from his chest as he escalated their embrace, moving from her mouth to kiss the underside of her jaw. His lips traveled to just below her ear, kissing the tender skin there, sending warm shivers eddying through her. He put his mouth to her pulse point and wanting unfurled in her. Her hands went up to his nape, a low hum of approval bubbling up in her throat as his lips continued their trail down her neck. It felt absolutely delectable, and she pressed his mouth further to her skin, holding him there, urging him on.

Will continued to kiss Elizabeth and need sizzled through her, along with a sharpening lust that heightened with every erogenous zone his lips brushed over. His tongue flicked out to taste her and she trembled against him, her breath hitching as she bit back a moan.

He returned to her mouth then, kissing her thoroughly, arousing her with the sheer intensity of the searing kiss.

Will never knew he could want a woman this way, with such a ferocity. Their heated bodies clung, the fire raging out of control, as he touched her, delighting in her soft curves, keeping one hand pressing her tight to him at the small of her back, the other traveling from her neck, plunging beneath the water to stroke her hip.

Elizabeth was utterly caught up in his touch. This was like nothing she had ever known. It was sensual and hot, wild and intoxicating, and as his hand moved down to caress her thigh she was hit with a powerful wave of wanting, a compelling need, a yearning, an _aching_ for him so intense the sensation was almost frightening. And all the while Will continued to kiss her with warm, seductive possession.

Elizabeth was heated and receptive, sweet, soft, sexy acquiescence in his arms. He burned to make love to her, and he would – right here and now – if she'd let him. His lips moved back to her neck and her breath shuddered out, her hands sliding up into his hair, guiding him. His head bent, he brushed his mouth along her collarbone and her insides grew quivery. And when he sucked the hollow between her neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping the skin, fierce pleasure coiled inside her and a deep moan escaped her, shouting the undeniable truth: she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It was Will's undoing.

He claimed her lips again, wild and intense, wholly beyond restraint. As his mouth and tongue consumed her, his muscled thigh slid up between hers. Elizabeth gasped, the sudden intimate contact shocking her back to reality. She jumped back, reeling. This was too much, too fast. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen.

She moved away from him, the first time since being pulled into the pool not plastered against him. She watched his gaze drift down to her chest and realized then that, in its wet-through state, her white nightgown had gone transparent. His eyes blatantly raked over her with undisguised lust and she understood then what she was too far gone to catch earlier. His soft words had distracted her, but now it was clear. There had been no "please don't go", no "you're destroying me", no "I need you to stay", just straight to touching, kissing and, if she hadn't regained her senses, very soon to something more. She crossed her arms over her chest, covering herself.

Will dragged his eyes back to her face. She was flushed, her eyes glittering, her lips red and full from his kisses, slightly agape as short shallow breaths escaped them. There was such intense emotion on her face; desire, hunger, and need, yes, but something else, something raw and vulnerable he wanted to kiss away and make better. He moved toward her, but Elizabeth backed away.

She longed to go back into his arms. She wanted nothing more than to return to that sweet surrender. But she wasn't a fool. She was leaving in a manner of days. She knew what this was. She recognized it: sex and then goodbye, something that Will excelled at.

As much as she tried, she couldn't live in the moment knowing that moment would end, leaving nothing but pain and heartbreak in its wake. "No, I….I can't," she said shakily, turning her back to him and starting to swim away.

He reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist. "Elizabeth," he beckoned in a hoarse whisper. "Don't go."

She kept her back to him, but she stopped, no longer putting up an effort to leave.

Will closed the remaining distance between them, his hands moving up to her shoulders, careful where he touched her; 'no' was still 'no', even if he saw nothing but 'yes' in her eyes. Pulling her back close to him, he murmured, "Oh, Elizabeth. Don't fight this. It's….." He paused, his breath ragged. "…..It's too good."

He drew her hair to one side, his wet fingers grazing her skin, and her eyes fell closed. He kissed the back of her neck and a quiver shot through her. And when he rubbed her jaw with his, she could take no more. With a soft sigh, she leaned back, melting into him once again.

Receiving the green light, Will moved in closer, his hands stroking over her arms. He nuzzled his chin and lips over the bare expanse of her neck. It felt intimate and shiveringly arousing and Elizabeth strained back against him, giving herself over to the delicious sensation of his goatee scraping against her soft skin.

He brought his mouth back to kiss beneath her ear the way she seemed to enjoy so much earlier, amplifying it this time by tracing the rim of her ear lightly with the tip of his tongue. She went breathless, sensual currents skipping along her skin. Then he took her earlobe completely into his mouth, nibbling and sucking, tugging it with his teeth before opening his mouth and scraping them across that tender skin beneath her ear. She let out a pleased murmur, feeling powerful lust, a consuming need, wash over her, the sensation strengthened by his hard body pressing into her from behind.

Will's hands journeyed to Elizabeth's waist, and he splayed his fingers across her stomach, spread wide as if wanting to touch as much of her as possible. His mouth still against her sensitized skin, he began rubbing his finger in seducing circles around her navel, yielding to the little sound she made and finally dipping all the way inside. Hot desire shocked through her, pooling low in her abdomen. He repeatedly stroked his forefinger in and out of her bellybutton, drawing a whimper from her, as his other hand edged higher up her torso, his hot breath blowing into her ear as he whispered her name.

She was dizzy with wanting. Her mind was still fighting, but her body was alive, hungry for the next touch, the next kiss. Will moved his hand from her ribcage down her curves, his fingers grazing her hipbone through the thin nightgown. Elizabeth took a shaky breath as his other hand moved lower now too, both sliding down to her outer thighs. Her senses were in total turmoil as he began on a mesmerizingly erotic trail down and then back up her ribs, waist, hips, thighs, repeating the path over and over again as he nuzzled her neck.

She ached and burned for him. It was overpowering and intense, like nothing she'd ever felt before. "Will," she moaned, her tone heavy with need.

In answer, he pressed his lips to her neck. And she was tempted, so tempted, to set her head back against his shoulder and feel his lips, his tongue, down the length of her throat and further – anywhere, _everywhere_ – but it wasn't real and it wouldn't last. One minute he seemed to want her, the next he was pushing her away, or at least not reaching out for her. Oh, he felt affection for her, true enough, with an inclination toward the sexual. He'd sleep with her, but that would be as far as it would go. That couldn't be enough for her. Could it? She didn't want to be just another playmate to a man who was only passing through, one more welcoming road stop on his way to long-term with someone else. He didn't feel for her the way she felt for him. That was the bottom line. She had to stop this. She _had_ to.

But then his kneading hand skimmed from her outer thigh across its top, his fingers curling into her inner thigh as he sucked her skin into his mouth and bit the crook of her neck. She gasped, feeling as if she might explode from the sheer pleasure of it. Maybe a little of love _was_ better than nothing at all, she thought, as his mouth worked over her skin, his hand moving further up her thigh…

But, no. She wanted _all_ of love. Why couldn't he love her just a little?

"Elizabeth," Will breathed, his voice thick with arousal. He moved his free hand back to the rhythmic teasing of her bellybutton, his pinkie stroking low across her abdomen where her panties would be, if she were wearing any. "I want you," he rasped, the hand at her thigh closing over the hem of her nightgown and tugging it upward. "You know how much I want you."

Yes, she did know; that was the problem. She loved him, he desired her. She wished for forever, he wanted sex.

"No," Elizabeth said weakly. But when his hands and lips stilled on her, her refusal gained in strength. "No!" she shouted, pushing back with her elbows and shoving him away from her.

She felt her throat closing up and tears began to sting the backs of her eyes. She had to get away from him, from this, from completely embarrassing herself.

She swam to the edge, pulling herself out. As the water sluiced down over her body, pooling at her feet, she remembered too late the see-through nature of her nightgown. She felt raw and exposed, aware that his eyes were on her.

"Don't look at me," she cried in near hysteria, the feeling increasing when she heard her voice crack.

"Elizabeth," Will said soothingly.

But she cut him off, screaming, "Turn around!"

She desperately paced the patio, unable to find anything to cover herself with, and was growing increasingly upset. Whether she wanted him seeing her or not, in this instance, he could not obey her frantic appeal. Will pulled himself from the water, going to her, on his way bending at one of the chaises and retrieving his towel.

She was right to feel modest. The thin, soaked fabric clung translucent to her and in her current position, with her back to him, he could clearly see her whole figure, including the entirety of her pleasantly curved behind. He wanted her to a degree which he'd never known, but he did his best to honor her request and not look.

Elizabeth hadn't heard Will get out of the pool, but he was suddenly there behind her, speaking low near her ear.

"Here", he said, his tone calm and gentle, as he delicately wrapped an oversized towel around her body. When she didn't bolt, as he half expected her to, he rubbed his hands lightly over her shoulders. "Don't run away from me, Elizabeth. _Please_," he softly pleaded.

If only he could feel half as much for her as she did for him, she lamented. Then she wouldn't have to run. She could stay in his arms as she longed to, where it felt so right – more right than anything before ever had.

"Please," he repeated.

Her bottom lip trembled. Elizabeth wanted to be mad at him. It was easier that way; the anger made her stronger. But it was impossible to stay upset with Will when he was being so sweet to her. A hot rush of tears overflowed her eyes and, despite herself, she leaned back into him.

Will brushed his lips across her shoulder where the towel had slipped, placing a soft kiss there. He heard her make a little noise, followed by a harsh intake of breath he thought was a gasp. Interpreting it as excitement, he pulled her closer to him, about to kiss her again, when he felt her back shaking against his chest and realized she was crying.

He turned her around to look at her, unable to miss the way she clutched the towel to her front as he did so. "Elizabeth. Why are you crying?" he asked gently, taking in her tearstained cheeks and the distress in her eyes, his softening even further as his gaze searched hers. "What's the matter?" he questioned, his voice pained. "What's wrong?"

He was so concerned, so caring, so tender with her, damn him. A sob stole from her throat and she broke into open weeping.

Seeing her break down that way wrenched at Will's emotions and all but brought him to his knees. Reaching out, he cupped her head, wrapping the other arm around her back and folding her against his chest, hugging her to him. At first Elizabeth resisted, but finally she allowed it, and then indulged in it, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. She burrowed into him, turning her nose into his throat and breathing him in, filling herself with his scent, locking in the memory.

Her soft hair against his jaw and her warm breath on his neck were a distraction in his still-aroused state, but all he could think of was comforting her. His arms tightly around her, he cradled her, rocking her gently, speaking soft soothing words as he stroked her hair. Resting his cheek atop her head, he tenderly rubbed her back, silently offering his strength and protection, and she nuzzled her face into his neck, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart as he held her securely wrapped up in his arms.

With his continued ministrations, her crying eventually gentled and ceased. It was only then that, placing a kiss into her hair, Will finally spoke again. "Tell me. Please," he quietly requested. Pressing another soft, warm kiss to her temple, he slowly drew her away from him to regard her face. The sight of her reddened eyes and the sadness in them, her hair clinging to her wet cheeks and neck, nearly broke him. "Whatever it is, I'll fix it, Elizabeth. I swear."

But she knew he couldn't fix it. No one could.

Will felt her stiffen in his arms and sensed the change in her. "Elizabeth?" She pulled away from him, misery clouding her eyes. "Elizabeth, _darling_."

At his 'darling' her face crumpled and she took off, running to her cabana.

* * *

AN: So….Will and Elizabeth came _very_ close in this chapter, but the moment just wasn't right yet. While they weren't fully there this time, I can promise that they are swiftly reaching a point of culmination where in the next few chapters major, life-altering choices are going to be made. As a little spoiler for those of you who've waited just as long as our Will and Elizabeth, let's just say the King's Ball is going to get very interesting.


	21. The Pirate Philosophy

~

* * *

You give me a feeling that I never felt before

And I deserve it, I think I deserve it.

- A. Keys

* * *

Elizabeth sat on a barstool at the Empress sipping limeade and pondering, like she had been for the past ten hours, what to do about the complicated conundrum that was her life. It was just past eleven in the morning and the Empress was still closed to the public, leaving Elizabeth to the relative solitude of the empty club. It looked strange and different with the overhead lights on, but familiar enough to remind her of the night spent there with Will. She took another sip and looked around the room. With only Jack and a few other employees scattered here and there about the building, she was left conveniently alone with her thoughts and memories – although that hadn't gotten her much of anywhere so far.

Last night she'd been nothing short of a mess. After running away from Will in full blown tears, she'd spent most of the night crying and thinking, tossing and turning, and generally feeling miserable. She knew what she wanted, but what she wanted she couldn't have. And what she could have, try as she might, she could never seem to make herself want.

In all of her contemplating, one truth glaringly stood out: how unhappy she'd been in her life before she came here, unhappy and trapped and merely existing. Ever since she was a young girl, pretty much from the day her mother died onward, she'd spent her life internalizing her thoughts and feelings, her wants and dreams, because they were improper, unacceptable, and discouraged at every avenue. By the time she reached the age of twenty-six her family and friends had no idea who she really was, and keeping it all bottled up inside had become second nature to her. Until Will. He knew her heart; he was the only one. He understood her and accepted her, and even appreciated her just the way she was. It was a connection that felt too perfect, too right, to not somehow be fated.

Her relationship with James didn't come anywhere close. Things between them had never worked out the way her father had hoped. Sometimes they were completely at odds, though her fiancé was clueless to see this. Other times there was a sort of friendship. All in all, she felt a brotherly affection for him at best and never could imagine living out her life as his wife, raising his children, growing old with him – and she certainly couldn't think of sharing his bed with any degree of excitement. There was an absence of any attraction on her side and the idea of intimacies with him brought on a lingering sense of aversion. She didn't want him touching her or even really kissing her, which is why she'd held him off this long. She'd even begun to think that maybe he was right. Maybe she was too cold. Maybe there was something wrong with her. She ought to be able to work up some excitement for a man who wasn't fictional, and she wanted to. She wanted all those things for herself she'd only heard and read about – hunger, yearning desire, raw carnality, and everything that went with them – but she'd never come across any man who could stir them in her, or even encountered one who could truly hold her interest for more than a day.

And then she'd ended up here and met Will. With him, every feeling, every emotion that she always knew should be there – from affection to passion, from love to lust – was present in spades. The problem was Will desired her, he even genuinely liked her, but he didn't love her. He wasn't _in_ love with her the way that she was with him, which was no good, no good at all. Even now, days away from saying goodbye forever, she'd had no sense whatsoever of commitment from him. She shouldn't open her heart or her body to him under such circumstances, but the unfortunate thing was she wanted to do both. Yet staying on the island and choosing Will would require going against her father, forever severing her ties to James, and probably being forced to do so with her country as well. There was so much at stake, so much more than just herself and her heartache – which were heavy enough burdens on their own. She couldn't with a good conscious cause such strife and upheaval and pain for what might very likely soon fizzle and die. Nor could she give up so much personally with those odds. Turning her back on her country, burning that bridge, would be irreversible, and what would she do then when Will grew tired of her and moved on, as he was bound to do? She knew all this logically, knew what the wisest, safest course of action was. And still, going back to what she'd known before, going back to marry James, was unthinkable.

This was an unsolvable dilemma. No matter which way she chose, she couldn't win. The maddening, cyclical, impossible thoughts that haunted her now were the very same ones she wrestled with the night before, the one that had brought her out walking in the first place. When she set out, she'd had absolutely zero idea of running into Will. Or of all that would transpire afterwards…..and her mortifying reaction to it. And hadn't that just been the icing on the cake? She'd cried in front of him and embarrassed herself horribly, but she couldn't hold it in. She'd felt…..oh, she'd felt so much, the sort of things that had previously only existed in heated dreams and waking amorous imaginings, and even then they weren't nearly so vivid or marvelous. The only thing that kept Elizabeth from giving herself completely to Will in the pool – where Anna or Jack or someone else might have easily happened by – was the knowledge that for him it would simply be one more encounter but for her it would be everything. _That_ is why she'd cried. That is why she'd run away.

Yet in the darkness of the night, tossing and turning in her cold empty bed, she'd wondered at the sense of it. It was all a very practical plan: keep him at bay, keep herself from getting hurt, don't do anything she'd regret later. Except the thing of it was, she already was hurting, a pain that would only increase after she'd said goodbye to Will for good. There was heartache down either path. So why couldn't she just choose what _she_ wanted then? She was so tired of fighting it. But that's when her sensible side would remind her of all that was at stake.

Pondering it, Elizabeth was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Will during their night at Calypso. She'd confessed to him that she envied Jack and his ability to live selfishly…..

"_I've discovered that doing exactly what you want isn't as easy as I thought. There are always consequences for your actions and, if I make a misstep and choose the wrong path, I have no one to blame but myself"_, she'd told him.

At the time she was thinking of herself, of protecting _her_ heart and not getting hurt, but she'd already discovered that was inevitable, inescapable. She'd fallen in love with Will and that went hand in hand with hurt. If that was all that was at risk anymore, right now she'd give up, give in, and go for it. No, it was everything else riding on this that troubled her mind and heart, keeping her locked in indecision. If she chose Will there would be no going back. Could she safely do that? Based on what she'd seen so far, the answer was a resounding no.

She'd figured that all out last night, weeping into her pillow, feeling like the situation was positively hopeless. Until, sometime in the wee small hours, another alternative came to her, a way that she could have and experience what she wanted and still shoulder her duty. What if she allowed herself the indulgence and followed her heart for just one night but still did the sensible thing and left afterwards. Then could she give in? Didn't she deserve a little something, a little taste of happiness?

It was this new, intriguing, surprisingly feasible thought that had brought her out of her bed and into the Empress. She'd wanted to revisit the one other place where she'd already very nearly given into to her heart. Perhaps here she could find some clarity and ask herself if she really wanted to open that door, or simply continuing running.

"Thinkin' about dear William?" Jack asked, suddenly behind her, his voice cutting into her thoughts and startling her enough that she jumped.

After a second of recovery time, Elizabeth responded. "I'm an engaged woman, Jack. I shouldn't be spending my time thinking about another man."

"And yet you are." She looked ready to object, but he stopped her with a smile and a raised hand. "Don't bother trying to deny it. You forget I was here the night you made quite a show with him. In fact, if memory serves me, it was right on this barstool," he said, indicating the empty stool next to her. "Any other place would've charged him for that."

"I was drunk," Elizabeth offered. Those words had become her mantra. She felt like having them printed on a card to save herself the time and trouble.

Easily seeing through her, Jack shrewdly countered, "And that's what it takes to lose your judgment with him? Being drunk?"

While her public lap dance had been embarrassing, she shuddered to think what Jack would say if he had witnessed her encounter with Will in the pool last night.

"No," she sighed. "It doesn't even take that."

Jack shook his head at the waste of it all. "You want to be with Will, but you don't think it can happen. He wants you, but he'll never believe he can have you. It's a silly game you two are playing, especially here in the bottom of the ninth."

Her eyes crinkled in confusion. "What?"

"Ninth inning," he explained. "The end of the game. American Baseball. No? Not a fan?" At her blank look, he shrugged. "Hmph, she doesn't get it."

"I thought it was quite good," Ragetti said, passing by with his mop and bucket.

"Wasn't it?"

"Excellent analogy," Ragetti concurred, until Jack snapped out of his self-glory long enough to rediscover the point, fixing his employee with a look that told him to get back to work.

Refocusing his attention on Elizabeth, he told her, "Let's just say that Will's been ready to get to bat with you for a long time – I'm guessing since the night you met – and," Jack snickered, "he's more than eager to provide you both with a grand slam, if you get my meaning." Elizabeth had heard just enough crude talk in her day that she did. "But you're both too busy focusing on the audience to see the potential of what could be happening in the game. You might want to decide to just play it, before it's all over and everyone goes home."

With that, he walked away, leaving her to consider it on her own.

Jack was right about one thing: time was short and it was wasting. Perhaps there was something to what he said. Maybe she should just be thinking about the here and now and worry about the future later. The pirate philosophy, she and Will had dubbed it; "_Do whatever comes naturally and worry about whether it was the right choice tomorrow."_ If she added in her 'only for a night' clause, it might just work. Theoretically, it made sense. Why suffer now when there would be enough of that to come later? She should be enjoying herself while she had the chance, getting whatever pleasure she could while it was still to be had.

The more she thought about it, the more wonderful it sounded. For the first time, without trying to block any of it out, Elizabeth allowed herself to relive the night before. She felt at home in Will's arms in a way she'd never felt anywhere or with anyone else. And more than just that, she came alive. He stirred up such feelings in her. He actually made her tingle. Didn't she have a right to tingle and burn, to live and feel, for once?

Elizabeth thought back on meeting Tia Dalma and her gift of the compass she still had in her possession. She'd tried it out over and over again the night before, and it unfailingly pointed across the way to Will's cabana, no matter how many times she changed rooms and directions to try to confuse it. Unstoppably, she flashed back on Tia's discerning statement:_ "You'd like to test the strength of the fire he ignites in you." _She'd had a little sampling of it in the pool, and it had been fantastic, amazing. She wanted more of it. She wanted it all.

"_Why fight it, child?"_ Tia had asked, and Will repeated the same words to her last night as he held her, touched her, kissed her, drove her half out of her mind. _Give in to your destiny_...Tia's words echoed through her.

Maybe she could…..Maybe she would. The thought made her happily jiggle in time to the soft music overhead as she walked around the bar to refill her virgin drink. The last thing she needed now was alcohol clouding her judgment, although it seemed her decision had in effect already been made. Of course, that didn't mean she planned on showing up at Will's bungalow in the nude. Nothing that drastic. Just that this was her last night, her last chance to be free and follow her heart, to drop her defenses and let go of anything holding her back, to just be a woman out with a man…..a man who made her tingle. The very idea put a spring in her step and a smile on her face.

Will entered the Empress then. Stopping at the top of the stairs, his eyes swept the room, looking for Jack. He found Elizabeth instead, walking out from behind the bar, looking so damn beguiling, her hips gently swaying to the low music – hips he had touched and caressed only the night before. He descended the stairs unconsciously, almost like an out of body experience. The urge was so fierce; he was powerless to fight the indomitable pull to her. Once they were on equal ground, he paused to admire the incredible view below the hemline of her flouncing skirt. He loved those long, toned legs of hers. How he ached to feel them wrapped around him.

Before he could finish the thought, Elizabeth pulled herself up on a barstool and turned. Their eyes met and connected. _They_ connected. A world of sexual tension and longing swirled between them. Will had no idea how to approach her after last night. She had been willing, eager even, but had then grown upset – nearly hysterical – and overcome in intense sobbing that ripped at his heart. He had no idea what he'd done, if anything, to hasten her tears, but whatever it was he hoped to fix it and certainly not repeat it, if he was indeed the cause. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but Jack met him before he so much as stepped away from the stairs, making the decision for him.

"Well, well, mate," Jack said, leading him to the side of the staircase, behind the club's long banquette and tables. "I've been wondering where you were. I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about what happened last night."

"Why?" Will questioned, suddenly focused and intense, sounding worried. "What happened last night?" Was their a breach in security, he wondered, something to do with Elizabeth or her father, whose flight was due in just over an hour?

"There were some strange goings on in the swimming pool."

"Oh?" Will asked, his jaw tightening almost imperceptivity. "In the guest pool?"

"No. Curiously enough, at the private pool."

"Hmm. That is strange," Will answered noncommittally. "What exactly did you see?"

"What makes you think there was anything _to_ see?" Jack rounded on him with the question.

"Because you said something happened," was Will's calm response, but he was well aware Jack must know, must have seen something, or he wouldn't be trying to pin him down this way.

"Last night I heard a raised voice coming from that direction, a _female_ voice, one that sounded an awfully lot like Elizabeth's. And I found a woman's ring at the bottom of the pool this morning." Jack paused artfully, giving Will the opportunity to spill. When he didn't, Jack continued, "I know you sometimes go for a swim when you can't sleep. And I know last night was one of those nights; I saw you in the pool on my way home. Anything you care to share?"

Will was stone-faced. "No."

"I wonder, what were her hand was doing underwater that caused her ring to rub right off?" Jack smirked.

"Jack – "

"The raised voice; she was screaming your name, wasn't she? I mean like, _really_ screaming your name, as in '_Ohhh, Will. Right there!_ _Do it again_'," he mimicked in falsetto.

"You are such a wanker," Will said, giving him a punch to the shoulder.

"Just tell me, did you do her in the pool last night or not? Because, I've got to say, it's not the wisest choice for your first time. I know the water's somewhat heated, but still. You're not going to look to your best advantage. Shrinkage and all," Jack grimaced. "Women know about that now, right?"

Will shook his head derisively. "I'm more of a gentleman than you are, Jack. Sex in public usually isn't my thing." Although he felt a slight twinge of guilt when he remembered that he _did_ try to get Elizabeth naked in the pool. He was lifting her nightgown when she stopped him. "And, believe it or not," he continued his pithy retort, "size and performance have never been worries. Then again," he shot over his shoulder as he walked away, "I'm not you."

But his cockiness with Jack soon slipped, and Will hesitated near the tables. He didn't know if Elizabeth was ready to speak to him yet after what happened, but she'd seen him come in and hadn't shied away from his glance or left the club. He took it as a positive sign and crossed over to where she sat at the bar, sipping her drink.

Will slid up onto the stool next to hers and she turned. "Hey," he greeted her, not knowing what else to say, as 'I love you desperately' hardly seemed the appropriate opener.

"Hey," she answered back, meeting his eye, if a little unsurely.

"Do you come here often?" he quipped, hoping the cheesy line would break some of the awkwardness between them.

A helpless laugh bubbled up past her throat. "About as often as you, I think," Elizabeth answered, playing along. Her eyes danced with amusement. Then her lips curved, joining them. "And please tell me you know CPR, because you just took my breath away," she rejoined with another comically tasteless line.

He gave her a slow easy smile in response, and her heart faltered. He looked wonderful – apparently their late night had no ill affect upon him – and smelled delectable, a tempting combination of subtle aftershave and another appealing scent that was all Will. "Did you….did you come here to talk to Jack?" she asked, motioning to the man whose dreadlocks just disappeared down the back hallway, presumably on the way to his office.

In fact, Will had come to find Jack, but as soon as he spotted Elizabeth whatever he meant to say to the would-be pirate took a backseat to seeing her. "Just returning to the scene of the crime," he replied, indicating the barstool on which he sat, the same one she'd pushed him down on and treated him to an impromptu lap dance. Before she could react, he preemptively added, "But I know, you were drunk."

She smiled. "Believe it or not, I wasn't going to say that. I'm through defending my behavior."

He glanced over at her glass suspiciously. "You're not drinking now are you?"

She laughed again, a musical sound that had the pleasing effect of warming both his heart and his body. "Just water and lime juice. Sometimes I prefer to be innocent."

"But not _all_ the time?" Will questioned, leaning back against the bar and watching her.

She knew he alluded to the night before. The gleam in his eyes gave it away, not merely dark in passion as before, but now also knowing. He'd kissed her, touched her, made her tremble. He knew he held the power to set a fire in her that only he could satisfy. And it was good, _so good_, between then. Why was she still fighting it?

Her gaze tangled with his. They were long past the point of pretending. He'd kissed her, it was true, but then they'd stopped. She could have left; he would've let her, she knew. But she stayed, stayed and escalated their encounter by touching him, caressing him intimately, and instigating the next kiss herself. "No, not all the time."

Her admission hung in the air between them and they sat there for a long moment, just looking at each other, until Elizabeth finally broke the silence. "Thank you," she said quietly, "for last night."

His brow rose. "Which part?"

A hot blush spread over her cheeks. "When you said that you would help me, if ever I needed you."

"And I meant it," Will assured her with the same quiet intensity that had touched her before. After a pause, he gently asked, "Are you going to tell me now why you were crying?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. But thank you for that, too."

Disappointment colored his features. She was the only one who knew his secrets. He'd let her in so completely. He wished she would do the same for him. "Really? That's all I get?"

Hearing the frustration in his voice, she looked away in. He was right, of course. He'd bared his soul to her, revealing painful personal truths he hadn't told anyone else. He deserved the same from her, but how could see tell him she was crying because she wanted more than anything in the world for him to love her?

Elizabeth met his gaze again, giving him a partial truth. "I was thinking about leaving."

His velvety eyes softened and warmed as they regarded her. "Don't you want to go?"

"I….You know there are issues. It's – it's complicated."

Giving her a long considering look, Will nodded. "Well just remember this, _I_ know the real you. I know you, and no matter what happens, no matter what you decide, I always will."

He said it with such sensitivity, such a depth of sincerity, and that was it. She was done fighting against this. Consequences be damned, she wanted her one night with him, one night of being together like a regular couple, to follow her heart with nothing to hold her back.

Will waited for Elizabeth's response, but apparently that had been the right thing to say for it was like someone had turned a switch in her. She smiled at him and there was something different in it, something that sent him reeling.

"I know that you know me, Will, in a way that no one else ever has," she softly told him. "And I'll never forget that. I don't want to forget any of the times we shared."

She swiveled nearer then and he was suddenly very glad he was sitting. He wasn't sure if his knees would have held him beneath the onslaught of the look she gave him. It reminded him of the way she looked in the pool – right before she'd touched and kissed him senseless.

Pinning her with his gaze, he broached the subject she steadily avoided. "Are we going to talk about what happened between us last night?"

She thought for a beat. "No."

Will nodded his understanding. "Regrets come morning. I figured as much would happen." He gazed at her with contrition, knowing his part in the night before, how he'd pushed past her initial reluctance by seducing her into compliance. "I'm sorry," he said with utter sincerity.

Her heart went out to him. Such a different reaction than James's in a similar situation, only Will hadn't nudged her towards anything she didn't fully want herself – something she had wanted practically since the moment they met. "You've nothing to be sorry for."

_Say it. Say the rest. Go for it. Before it's too late_, her heart frantically directed. It was down to the wire after all, now or never. And in that instant the last of her qualms flew away. She was ready to hang propriety and be with Will – even if it wasn't forever and he didn't love her – if nothing else than for the memories and the way he made her feel whenever she was with him. Now all she had to do was let him know.

"Maybe I will talk about it," Elizabeth recanted, her gaze talking a journey over his features. "Because as upset as I was later – as much as I cried and made a complete fool of myself – _all_ of last night wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all."

"No?" he questioned, his eyes holding hers.

"No. Just the opposite."

She edged in even closer to him until their legs were just barely touching and Will shifted uncomfortably on the stool, wondering how she could get him so hot just by looking at him that way.

"There were parts I liked quite well," she divulged, reaching out and touching him, letting her hand linger on his arm. She'd discovered last night that touching him was addictive. Doing so without restraint or caution would be mind-blowing.

Will's eyes filled with dark emotion at what he read in hers. She made his blood heat every time she touched him, and he knew it was the same for her. He couldn't bear to lose her. At the very least he had to hold on to her a little while longer…..And as much as it surprised him, she seemed to be offering the opportunity. She was sending signals left and right that, whatever had changed, she was now open to something between them.

Elizabeth uncrossed then re-crossed her legs towards him. After he finished following the movement, he looked up into her face, finding a welcoming smile and come-hither eyes.

Wanting to keep her on this track, keep her from changing her mind, he took her hand in his and, as it conveniently lay against her knee, left their joined hands resting against her leg. "I enjoyed last night too, more than you can imagine."

"I haven't any regrets, Will," she professed. "And I have another idea for tonight."

"I'm listening," he replied, his eyes smoldering as his thumb caressed her palm, then her inner wrist.

She slowly wet her suddenly dry lips. "My father and James are coming. Everything will change after that. Tonight has sort of a 'last night' feeling to it. And I want it to be the best, the most memorable night of my life."

"And where do I fit in to this?"

"The same place you always have. You've helped me from the very beginning to have my holiday, live out all my 'firsts'. Tonight's going to be the highlight of them all. I want to throw all caution to the wind – no holding back – and have my pleasure while I can."

"Caution to the wind? No holding back? With you, I can definitely do that."

"Good," Elizabeth answered. A naughty smile played across her lips. "Wait till you see my dress," she said, an undertone of breathy seduction clear in her voice.

He involuntarily leaned in closer to her. "Will I like it?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," she teased. "But if I was a betting woman, I'd say you'll love it."

His eyes danced down her figure before returning to her face. "I'm sure I will."

"Confidentially," she flirtatiously whispered, "I wanted to wear something slightly scandalous."

"Then I'm _positive_ I will."

Elizabeth laughed softly, but an edge of gravity tempered her eyes. "I'm glad you'll be there, Will. I hate these things, playing a part for the benefit of everyone else. If they're going to make me do it, this time I'm going to get something out of it for myself."

He arched a brow, giving her a wicked look. "Me?"

She laughed again. "I meant some fun."

"You can have me too," he said, his gaze smoky and his smile heart-stopping. "Just so you know."

"I'll keep that in mind." She'd answered him lightly, but with a definite hint of intrigue and interest in her voice. Still, her next words disappointed him. "I should go, Will." Luckily, they seemed to disappoint her too. "I have to get to the airport to meet my father."

"His plane's due in about an hour, right?"

"Right."

"I could take you," Will offered. "Remember, we decided last night."

"I remember. One last ride on the Lambretta," Elizabeth sighed wistfully.

"You love that bike, don't you?" he grinned.

She got an eager, revved up, excited look in her eyes as she answered, "I love the speed, the adventure, the power, the danger of it."

She spoke of it as if it were the ultimate aphrodisiac, and his grin widened. A woman who got turned on by high-speed motors and sword fights. A woman after his own heart. "It gets your heart pumping and your blood flowing, your body surging with adrenaline, buzzing with an absolute rush of sensation."

"_Yes_," she breathed, thrilled that he grasped it perfectly.

"That's not a bad feeling to chase. But," Will replied provocatively, "the Lambretta isn't the only thing that can give you that. Not the only thing and certainly not the best thing. Not by a long shot."

He lifted their still joined fingers to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, and her stomach did a little flip. Then he moved his lips over her skin, brushing a kiss across each knuckle. The heat of his breath and the softness of his mouth against her hand were surprisingly erotic, making her feel warm and shivery inside. And when the tip of his tongue touched the V of her fingers, sliding into the crevice between, Elizabeth felt a hot slid of need that had her other hand clenching into the fabric of her skirt.

Will's heated breath puffed out across her fingers as he lowered her hand from his mouth back to her lap. He wanted to touch her, taste her, become a part of her, and he could see that she wanted it too. His eyes swept over her face, coming to rest on her mouth.

Skimming his thumb over her lower lip, he whispered, "You said it was complicated. Maybe it doesn't have to be."

Elizabeth looked into his dark eyes, eyes that promised heaven – and she wanted ever bit of it. "No," she agreed. "It doesn't have to be."

His hand slid to the back of her neck, ready to kiss her then and there, in front of whoever might be watching, though they had long since stopped noticing anyone else in the room beyond themselves. But as he cupped her neck, he noticed the tightness of the muscles, the stiff tautness all across her shoulder.

"You're so tense," he breathed, his lips still close to hers. "Because of me?" he asked, pulling back, wondering if he was rushing her.

"No. You're the only one who doesn't make me tense…..Well, in a bad way," she corrected. Will smiled at that, and she continued, "It's just my father and….everything, all coming down on me at once. It's nothing."

"Turn around," he instructed.

"What? Why?"

"Swivel around on the stool," he said, reaching down next to her thigh and turning it for her. "Let me give you a message," he coaxed. "I'm told I'm very good at it."

"I'll bet," she shot back, but obediently offered her back to him.

Will reached up and placed his hands beneath Elizabeth's hair, kneading the back of her neck and across her shoulders, feeling the tension loose and the muscles ease and soften beneath his touch. Very quickly the smooth strokes of his hands lost all pretense of a therapeutic message and became something else altogether. He drew her hair back behind her shoulders, baring her silken skin, his index finger caressing the hollow of her throat, then along her collarbone. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the haze of sensual desire he created. He moved both hands along the sides of her neck, his forefingers tracing her jaw as his thumbs teased the sensitive curve where her neck and shoulders met. He made her body sing whenever he touched her this way. She wished he would go on touching her forever. When his fingers moved up to play beneath her ear, she turned her cheek into his hand, nuzzling her face into his palm. Her hand came up over his, twining their fingers together, and she tipped back ever so slightly into him…

They were so lost in each other, neither one noticed a lone figure enter the club and begin descending the stairs behind them, witnessing the unfolding scene.

Weatherby Swann's plane had come in early, so it wasn't much of a surprise that his daughter wasn't waiting for him as planned. However, when he arrived at the Black Pearl, the resort where she'd been making her home for the past weeks, he was more than a bit perplexed and disappointed that the young woman was in fact nowhere to be found – although Gillette did not seem too astonished by her disappearance. He merely asked where William Turner was and, finding out he was last seen going into the Empress, informed the king that the princess would be there too. Gillette had wanted to come along as well but, after a quick sweep of the still closed club, ultimately his guards had to settle for waiting at the door, as Weatherby wanted to have this reunion with his only daughter away from others' prying eyes.

But when he made it into the club, peering over the balcony, the sight that met _his_ eyes was startling to say the least. A man, one he could only assume to be this William she gushed over, was touching his daughter in a fashion that spoke of much more than mere friendship. One of his hands was cradling Elizabeth's cheek and the other was beneath the collar of her blouse. What's more, she appeared to be wholly complacent with it, her own hand resting on his at her cheek and her body leaned back into his.

He had heard the rumors, ones pegging this man as his daughter's lover, but he had dismissed them. Even after hearing the emotion in her voice as she spoke of him, Weatherby had hoped it was just friendship alone that had warmed her tone. But this was worse, far more dangerous, than anything he'd feared. It was abundantly clear there was something between his daughter and this Turner boy, but it couldn't be. Whatever it was – love or lust – it must be squelched immediately. He knew she had fanciful dreams, and if it were up to his parent's heart he would make them all come true for her. But it had always been her fate and destiny to be more than ordinary and as such she must accept that some dreams had to be sacrificed for the betterment of oneself and one's country.

He was now at their side, mere feet away from them, though neither Turner nor his daughter noticed him. "Elizabeth," he called.

Her eyes flew open with a gasp, and they immediately jumped apart.

"Father," she said, sliding down from the stool on shaky legs. "Father, you're early. I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"Yes. I can see that."

"I would've met the plane – I mean, I was planning to," she rushed on. "But I didn't know you were early, you see….I was just leaving now."

Weatherby said nothing in reply to her awkward rambling, instead asking, "Am I to assume this is Mister Turner?"

Will slanted Elizabeth a look and she met his eye. Attraction laced with guilt at being caught bounced between them, but not regret.

"Yes, Father. This is William Turner, the man who rescued me."

The overwhelming affection in her tone had Weatherby glancing at his daughter a moment before turning his attention back to William.

"I don't know about that, sir," Will answered her claim. "I just helped her in whatever way I could."

"No, you did. You did rescue me, Will," Elizabeth insisted.

"Well then, young man," Weatherby said, extending his hand, "I suppose thanks are in order."

"Not at all, sir," Will replied, shaking his hand. Looking to Elizabeth, he added, "I guess I should be going, and let the two of you get reacquainted."

Weatherby would have liked further words with Turner, but the fact that, even after weeks away from him and a near death experience, his daughter could barely spare a look toward him when William was in the room made him anxious to have the young man leave. It was a feeling he wasn't used to, even in the presence of the man that was soon to be her husband.

"Goodbye, sir," Will said, bowing slightly. "It was very nice to meet you."

With a darting glance to Elizabeth, he turned towards the stairs, but she called out, stopping him.

"Elizabeth," Weatherby interrupted, "surely Mister Turner wouldn't mind a bit of time for us alone. I'm certain he has someplace else to be, and you wouldn't wish to detain him."

"I'll only be a minute, Father."

She took Will off to the side, her hand on his bicep. Will looked over to her father and, as he suspected, found him watching them closely.

"What is it?" he asked her. "I've never been introduced to a king before. Did I do something wrong?"

"No," she smiled. "You were prefect. Don't let him fluster you. He's just another man."

"Oh yes. Exactly like Jack."

Elizabeth laughed. Her fingers infinitesimally stroked his arm as she removed her hand. "I'll still see you at the gala?" she asked, wanting to let him know that nothing had changed, her father's abrupt appearance hadn't altered her desire for one last night of reckless freedom.

"I'll be there," Will promised.

"Until tonight, then," she whispered.

Elizabeth watched Will go, her teeth worrying her lower lip with each step he took. It was then that she was hit with the full breath of understanding of just how difficult it would be in the coming days. Here in the Empress were two facets of her life – the old and the new – and as she watched Will go, leaving her there with her father, she knew that her heart and soul went up those stairs and left with him. And that's how it would always be. As much as she loved her father, every last part of her longed to go with Will.

Weatherby approached his daughter and, with the closing of the outside door, she turned to him, accepting his tender greeting and hug. He knew he would have to tread carefully were Turner was concerned. It was clear she had feelings for him and, when forbidden in a course of action, she could be downright willful and stubborn. Still, he had to let the point be made and, as soon as the initial pleasantries were finished, he did.

"I realize you're fond of Mister Turner," he began.

"Yes, I am," Elizabeth responded warily, not at all caring for the direction of this conversation. "If it wasn't for Will, I don't know what would have happened to me."

"Be that as it may, you must be careful. We are doing all this for appearances. It won't do if it looks to everyone like you're running off on your fiancé with – "

"Don't finish that sentence," Elizabeth stopped him, venom in her tone.

Weatherby sighed. "You have to remember your responsibilities, Elizabeth. To James, to me, to your country."

"I know, I know. I _do_. Really," Elizabeth assured him, and she meant it.

But she still had her one night – and nothing and no one was going to take that away from her.


	22. Only One Night

~

* * *

I want to be with you.

If only for a night.

- K. Thomas

* * *

As Elizabeth put the finishing touches to her makeup, she thought about the earlier conversation she had with Will. She'd bragged about her dress to him and, looking in the full-length mirror, she decided he wouldn't be disappointed. However _she_ would no doubt have to endure an hours-long lecture later on decorum and the proper behavior befitting a member of the Swann family, but she couldn't make herself care. Tonight was her night – hers and Will's. So what if she had switched the dress Gillette had approved with the one she'd bought on that first shopping trip with Anna? At least it still matched his precious color scheme. The gown was luxurious and daring, and it was only the secret fantasy of one day wearing it out to some extravaganza with Will – as unlikely as that seemed at the time – that had convinced her to buy it. Now such an evening was actually coming to pass and there was no way she was going to miss out on the opportunity to live one final dream.

The dress was a deep, rich purple silk that flowed over her body like liquid heaven, melding to her soft curves and drawing the eye inexorably to her feminine figure. It was strapless with the tiniest hint of a dipping sweetheart neckline and the bodice was cut close to the body, nipping in at the gathered waist to flow back down over her hips and legs all the way to her ankles. As sensuous as the dress already was, it was the high off-center slit stretching scandalously far up her leg – when she moved just right, all the way to nearly the top of her thigh – that really put the silk gown into va va va voom territory.

She finished off the ensemble with open-toed silver heeled sandals that added additional height and made both her legs and the slit look deliciously longer. Underneath she wore sexy lingerie that, while no one could actually see, made her feel more seductive all the same.

Smiling into the mirror, Elizabeth added the one last touch to make the outfit complete: Will's medallion. As she draped the soft golden chain around her neck, the pirate coin slipping beneath her bodice to nestle in the warmth between her breasts, she recalled Will's provocative innuendo that the surging rush of sensation the Lambretta provided was nothing in comparison to what he could give her. She had no doubt that it was true. In fact, try as she might, the night before – the two of them together in the swimming pool – was all she could think of. And, surprisingly, all at once it didn't matter anymore that it would just be temporary; temporary was better than nothing. For the next few hours, Elizabeth was done fighting her feelings. She was going to have her one night of abandon with Will come hell or high water.

…..She only had to endure the first half of the ball – simpering and smiling, poising for the camera, playing a part and putting on a great show as the good little princess – until the rest of the evening was hers…._theirs_.

* * *

Will arrived outside the Governor's Ballroom just over an hour into the gala. He came purposefully late, knowing Elizabeth would be busy. The last thing he wanted was to be a distraction, especially in front of the press. After all, the whole point of this reception was to stage a night of dancing and smiling and acceptance, both from her family and her peers, to dissuade any rumors that Elizabeth was anything less than what they made her out to be.

So as not to get in the way, Will came to the gala fashionably late. But if he was honest with himself there was another reason for his foot-dragging. This would be the first time he saw Elizabeth wholly and truly in her element, wearing the title of 'princess' for all it was worth. He still found her background, her upbringing, her very identity intimidating. It was a lingering mystery why she accepted his friendship, why of all the men in the world she was attracted to _him_. But it was him she wanted here with her on her last night of freedom. Her very words had told him as much and, mindboggling as it was, he had to believe it. However much he felt he didn't belong, he would be there just as she asked. And, as nervous as he was, he wanted nothing more than this last chance to be with her.

However entering the ballroom brought his earlier concerns slamming back home. He'd been here before, of course, many times, but never had the large hall looked anything like it did now. The room was decorated in royal purple with silver accents. The walls and tables were cloaked in purple – the tables adorned with decadent silver centerpieces – and the entire room seemed to sparkle, bathed in an iridescent shimmering silvery light. It was lush and opulent and everything Elizabeth was but Will was not. Still, he forced himself to swallow those qualms. Elizabeth wanted this evening to be the highlight of all of her time here. She wanted to throw caution to the wind. To have her freedom and fun while she could. She wanted him to be a part of it, and he wanted that too; he wanted to be a part of _anything_ connected to her. So tonight, somehow, he would make himself forget the chasm between them.

Will spotted Elizabeth across the room and his jaw nearly dropped. She was engaged in a lively conversation with one of the hundreds of people there he didn't know and so she didn't see him at first, but suddenly she looked up and their eyes connected.

A slow, delighted smile curved Elizabeth's lips and she instantly forgot the dignitary she was speaking to, Sir What's-His-Name. She'd been waiting for Will from the moment she got here, before really. Even as she dressed, he'd been the only thing on her mind. Though he'd been late and she'd been impatient, whatever caused the delay, it had been worth the wait. He was heart-stoppingly gorgeous, can't-concentrate-or-form-an-intelligible-word impossibly good-looking. He wore a black tux, like virtually every other man in the room but, with his dark swarthy coloring and neatly trimmed goatee, he was easily set apart. He looked dashing and urbane with an undeniably suave and seductive appeal. He was wholly sexy; there was no other word to describe it. And, as his eyes claimed hers, he returned Elizabeth's smile, setting off a slow burn inside of her. Then his eyes drifted from her face to take in the dress she'd promised he would love, and she bit her lip in nervous anticipation.

Will's gaze moved over Elizabeth and he lost his breath. In her decadent silk dress, she was the very picture of elegance and class. Yet the gown was far from staid. With its fitted nature, its gently dipping already-low neckline, and a slit in the front that went all the way up to – _Holy hell_, she'd shifted toward him and he was treated to a glimpse of long, tanned leg nearly up to her knickers – she also looked like long, hot, sultry nights. Her smoky eyes added to the image, as did her upswept hair, which left her arms, shoulders, neck, and décolletage deliciously bare…..except for the thin gold strand that he instantly recognized as his medallion. She was stunningly beautiful, and he wanted her so much he ached with it.

Across the room, Will wordlessly communicated to Elizabeth that her dress did not disappoint. Her eyes lit and her smile broadened, turning just a shade wicked in acknowledgement of the compliment. However, as arrestingly attractive as Will was and as much as she longed to go to his side and spend the rest of the night in his arms, the dignitary next to her gently cleared his throat, alerting her to the fact that she'd lost track of what he'd been saying and indeed completely forgotten his existence. Now, as always, duty called.

With regret, she looked away from Will and gave this much less interesting man her attention, wondering how long it would be before the official part of the evening would pass, the press would slowly peter out, and she could have the rest of the night all for herself – and Will.

* * *

Another hour later and Elizabeth was nearly beside herself. Every attempt she'd made to dodge this politician and evade that luminary or VIP was always thwarted. What's more, she was forever under the concerned gaze of her father or, worse still, the hawk-like stare of Gillette. She was starting to feel that if she didn't get to Will soon she was going to scream.

And Will diligently watched the proceedings, trying just as hard as she was to find his way to her side. He saw her get handed off from man to man on the dance floor, saw as she was paraded around like a trophy. He watched it all with a fierce protectiveness, an urgent need to pull her away from it all, to rescue her tonight as he had the night they'd met. He seemed to be the only one who understood that she was a human woman with thoughts and feelings, and not merely a commodity, an asset to the crown like a ship or a building to be shined and polished and trotted out when it benefited. She knew it was only for her sake that he hadn't come over and put an end to it. Such a thing would cause a scene and he didn't want to do anything to hurt her, but at this point she was almost past caring how it was accomplished as long as she could have him to herself.

Elizabeth smiled over apologetically at Will as the latest bigwig monopolized her and he winked adorably back. This was not at all how she'd envisioned the evening, but one way or the other she was determined to get to him. She just hoped she wouldn't have to wait until the entire gala was over.

Even as this latest man talked and talked away, riveted by his own story and obviously assuming that she would be too, Elizabeth kept her attention focused on Will as he had a conversation of his own with Jack. The two men stood near the far end of the room, just in front of the one wall of the ballroom that wasn't a wall at all but rather a floor-to-ceiling window revealing the darkened ocean that, as the building was situated on the pier's end, was but a few feet outside the patio doors. On this night, the doors were closed, but bright moonlight still streamed in, setting off the glistening waters just beyond and framing Will in a picture worthy of a postcard, making him look all the more enticing for the exotic backdrop.

How she loved him. Even gazing at him across the length of the room, she could feel the power of it. And tonight would be her night to live all of her what-ifs: what it she wasn't a princess; what if she wasn't engaged; what if she were free be with Will, to dance with him, to date him, to do with him as she pleased? Tonight, she would let all those what-ifs be true. She would let her guard down, let him hold her, let him into her heart. It would be their goodbye.

As part of that goodbye, she was going to kiss him tonight; of that, she was certain. And what kisses he gave. Unlike James, Will's lips were caressing, not demanding. His tongue was hot and enticing, not aggressive. And she responded all the more for it. Yes, they would kiss tonight and she would savor every second of it. How she longed for one of his kisses now, even without provocation or preamble.

She shifted restlessly from foot to foot, her eyes unwaveringly focused on Will. She had the most overwhelming urge to touch him. _Now_. All this waiting was killing her.

Finally the man at her side seemed to sense her disinterest and excused himself to go find a more ready audience. It was then that Anna came up to her and took her arm, pulling her away from the side wall and further toward the dance floor.

"We have a plan, Jack and I," she mysteriously informed her.

"A plan?" Elizabeth parroted, confused by all the intrigue but admittedly captivated by the excitement of it.

"A plan to give you and Will some time together. I know that's what you both want. I've watched the two of you trying all night to get to each other."

"I know. Isn't it terrible? I'm about to lose my mind," she lamented in a whisper.

"Don't do anything that drastic. I'll get you your fix," Anna replied with a knowing smile. "I'm going to run interference for you. I'll block anyone who tries to come up to you while you hurry over to Will. Hopefully they'll all be too polite to interrupt you, at least for a few minutes. Jack's working on a plan for something longer."

"Oh," Elizabeth breathed in relief. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means."

"I think I do," Anna told her perceptively. After a pause, she asked, "Are you really going back, Elizabeth? _Really_?"

On a sigh, she sadly admitted, "I don't want to. But I – I think I have to."

Anna didn't say another word, merely nodded.

"But not tonight," Elizabeth added. "Tonight is for me."

"Go find your man," Anna instructed. "We'll take care of the rest."

Elizabeth could feel the anticipation spark to vivid life in her. There would be no tomorrow for them. Tonight was all they'd ever have, but she would soak up every moment, every memory she could.

While Anna was talking to Elizabeth, Will was across the room being notified by Jack of her plan to buy them a little time together. He shouldn't be so willing, so eager, to go along with it. Elizabeth had made her choices. She was leaving the island. Come the morning, he would never see her again as anything more than distant acquaintances and shortly thereafter he'd never see her again at all. He knew all this. He knew he couldn't have her forever, or really for much more than a night, but he would take whatever scraps fell from her table, whatever she was willing to offer, whatever little bit of time he could have with her. Perhaps he ought to, but he knew no pride where she was concerned. For the first time in his life he knew how his mother felt. That alone should have been a warning to him. Yet as he was walking up to Elizabeth, now suddenly alone at the edge of the dance floor, he found he couldn't make himself care.

He'd thought she looked beautiful across the room but up close, just an arm's length away, she was luminescent, positively radiant. It was clear why all night long she hadn't been able to find a moment's time for herself. Any man still breathing was going to flock to her side, of his own volition or not. But while, with an ache in his heart for her, he'd watched Elizabeth wear a mask all night long – her society smile he'd come to think of it as – the one she treated him to now was genuine, her expression open and real and full of happiness. He felt himself privileged to be the one, the _only_ one, she'd looked at that way.

Elizabeth took a moment to appraise him, deciding that, within touching distance, he was even more irresistible than she'd initially thought – which was truly saying something.

"You cut your hair," she told him, her smile turning gently teasing. From a distance she thought perhaps he'd had it pulled back but now she could see that all traces of the ponytail were gone.

Will looked slightly embarrassed, but nodded. "I wanted to look respectable."

While she had to admit she'd loved his hair long, this style was becoming too, certainly no less sexy. And with his hair still softly curling over his collar, it was by no means short. There was still plenty left to grab on to. Her cheeks colored and she instantly halted that line of thinking. It wouldn't do to get caught up in that…..just yet, anyway.

She cleared her throat, belatedly answering him. "Well you succeeded."

"So I measure up to the standard of the evening?" he asked, only half in jest.

"More than measure up. Just look around," she instructed, taking a second to do just that. "You must know you're the most striking man here."

"Thank you. I think."

Elizabeth smiled. "It was a compliment," she assured him. "You look incredible, Will. I just – I…." She sighed. "You're…incredible."

"In that case, I _really_ thank you," he grinned. "And might I say you clean up rather nicely yourself?"

"You may," she laughed, finding laughter with him easy though it had eluded her all night.

Will eyed her appreciatively and anticipation crackled in the air between them. The night was young and suddenly full of possibilities.

"You weren't exaggerating about that dress," he told her, his tone low and husky.

"I wore it for you." Her quiet admission seemed to temporarily stun him into silence, so she took the lead. "Come on. I'll teach you _my_ kind of dancing."

But she soon learned she didn't need to. His fingertips found hers and, after playing there a moment, quick as a flash he pulled her to him and into the strains of the slow mellifluous song the orchestra was playing.

All at once the world was gone and there was no one but the two of them, nothing but the feel of her hand, soft and warm, in his. Will closed his eyes a moment, savoring the simple bliss of holding her, and Elizabeth followed suit, thinking how perfect it was to be like this, here in his arms with his hand resting securely at her back, his thumb softly stroking her spine, the warmth of his body teasing her front as he gently rocked her and she instinctively matched his rhythm.

"You smell wonderful," she murmured, the words spilling from her without thought.

He gave a laugh. "So do you." He inhaled slowly, breathing her in. "Like flowers, and berries, and something sweet and soft and all your own."

"I like dancing with you, Will," she whispered.

With a smile, he pulled her closer. Yet, though their cheeks were now brushing, ever mindful of their environment, he kept the rest of their bodies a discreet breadth apart. "It's not quite the same as our first bit of dancing though, is it? You proved you have talents I bet no one in this room even begins to suspect."

Mischief danced in her eyes. "Everyone from the Empress knows the truth: that I have a very wild side I work awfully hard to keep tamped down." She felt him chuckle and pressed in closer. Her breath in his ear teased his senses as she softly declared, "But I'm serious, though. I _do_ have a wild side."

His smile flashed as she pulled back to look at him, the adorable one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I know you do. I've experienced it first hand. Your wild side and I are quite good friends."

"I'm glad. Because my wild side likes you, Will. Very much." She fell silent after her bold confession, simply enjoying the beautiful freedom of speaking to him this way, flirting with him, feeling him so close.

Her hand resting on his arm slowly crept up his shoulder to his neck, her touch setting him off, sparking a need that couldn't be answered here in the ballroom.

"This is nice," Elizabeth sighed.

"It is."

"But my wild side and I both agree on one thing."

"What's that?" Will asked, his head cocked to the side, lips parted, as he awaited her answer, knowing that – whatever she was about to say – she just did it for him, plain and simple.

"The way we danced at the Empress was much more enjoyable."

His eyes flickered to hot and his tone dropped low. "I'd have to agree with you both there. For sheer pleasure, it's hard to top the way we danced that night. But then I think I'd get tackled and possibly tased if I tried to dance that way with you here."

She laughed, as he'd intended, by her smile dimmed a second later. "Yes, I'm sure," she said, with a sadness to her tone that spoke volumes. But the sorrow was soon covered by sarcasm. "How does it feel to hold a princess in your arms?"

"It's hard to say, because I don't think of you that way. In fact, I don't see a princess at all."

Though it was an incredible statement, with the way he was looking at her now, not as a title or an entity, but as if she – she, _Elizabeth Swann_ – was the most precious thing, it was impossible not to believe him.

"All I see is the woman who crashed my bike, who bribed her way out of jail." He held her gaze and she felt herself heat and waken for him. "Who kissed me in the pool last night until I forgot my own name. That's the woman I'm holding in my arms."

She could see the banked fire in his eyes, could feel the sizzle of the connection between them, was acutely aware of every place they touched. And what made it all the more special was that more than just turning her on, more than just making her body want his in a way no one else ever had, he knew her – the _real_ her – and that's what he valued, that's what he was drawn to.

She rewarded him with a smile, slow and soft and full of both love and desire. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't see a princess either."

"Good," he answered, sharing her smile, "because I don't want anyone else intruding. It's just Elizabeth and Will tonight."

They went back to dancing quietly, enjoying the music and the mood and each other. Will could feel the tips of her fingers playing with him, teasing him at the nape of his neck beneath his now-shortened curls, tracing circles and patterns, her fingers wicked and enticing, muddling his mind. And he was helpless to it. He loved everything about her; the sweet, soft, uncertainty she had just displayed and the naughty, bold, waywardness she was exhibiting now. This is what he dreamed of, what he fantasized about with her, only more – much more. He wanted absolute surrender from her till she lost her mind, until she was beyond herself, out of control, giving herself completely to him.

His gaze was searing as he looked at her, and Elizabeth didn't even have to know him as well as she did to understand what was on his mind. She pulled back from their snuggled waltz pose and took his arm. She didn't want to think about what would happen later, tomorrow, next week, only now – tonight. "Let's get out of here," she whispered, tugging him off the dance floor.

"Are you sure about this?" Will asked, taking a quick look around them, paying attention to their surroundings for the first time since he walked up to her. "You won't get into any trouble for leaving?"

Elizabeth glanced around, her eyes quickly finding her father, engrossed in conversation with Jack at the head table, then Gillette somehow being successfully distracted by Anna's overt flirtations – who knew that man even had feeling below the waist? – and she nodded her approval.

"Everything will be fine. No one will miss me, and if they do, Jack and Anna have things taken care of well enough in here. I just want some air. I want – I _need_ – to be alone, away from this show." She sensed Will's hesitation at her desire to be 'alone', and clarified, "Alone _with you_."

His eyes made a slow pass over her features. "Come on then," he said, taking her hand and leading her stealthily out through a side door so skillfully incorporated into the wall she hadn't even noticed it was there.

Stepping outside, Elizabeth's breath instantly lodged in her throat. She'd never been out here before and had in fact only seen the building and pier from a distance. She had no idea how remarkable it was. In all of her travels, she'd never seen anything like it. The Governor's Ballroom was constructed on the edge of the pier so it lay out over the water, making for some spectacular views – that much she had noticed from inside – but what she didn't realize was that the pier itself was clear. She had no idea what it was made out of but, because of its translucent nature and its position jutting out into the ocean, it gave those who stepped out upon it the illusion of walking on water.

"This is incredible," she stammered, looking down at the cerulean waters flowing seemingly right beneath their feet. "Absolutely amazing. I – I've never seen anything like it," she voiced her earlier thought.

Will smiled at the awe in her eyes. "Thank you. I take that as a high compliment." When she looked at him in confusion, he added, "I'm the one who designed it."

In spite of all the worldly sophistication of a princess, Elizabeth's mouth gaped open a moment. "Is there no end to your talents?"

He shrugged. "It makes for nice wedding photos."

She shook her head in wonder. Yet another addition to the mystery that was William Turner. The man had spent his entire life trying to avoid love and its complications, yet when designing this facility he'd put careful thought into how best to frame the prospective future brides and grooms who might choose to be wed here. Try though he might to suppress it, it took a man with a truly romantic heart to even think of such a thing in the first place. "You continue to surprise me."

At the word 'surprise' his eyes brightened into a mischievous twinkle. "I do have a surprise for you. Something I was hoping to show you before the night was through. There's no one alive who'd appreciate it as much as you, I think."

He had her intrigued; there was no denying. "It's a good surprise, then?"

One side of his mouth curved up and his dimple flashed to life. Her natural curiosity and eager impatience always meant that while she loved surprises she never could bear to wait to find out what they were, forever trying to wheedle it out of him sooner. "You won't get me to spill so easily. Come with me anyway?" he asked. "Sight unseen?"

She was surprised he still felt the need to pose it as a question. "I'd go anywhere with you, Will."

"We haven't far to go," he replied. Curling an arm around her waist, he drew her to his side and began walking them toward the pier's end. Turning to glance at her, Will shot Elizabeth a sexy little smile then leaned down to whisper softly in her ear, "But be warned: legend has it the ghost of a long-dead pirate lingers here."

She shivered. Not in response to his teasing ghost story, but from the feel of his warm breath across her ear, his soft lips so close to her lobe she had to fight the intense urge to lean into his mouth and complete the connection. No one could ever make her feel as he did, when he looked at her, when he touched her, when he was simply nearby.

Will brought them to a stop at the edge of the building, just around the corner from the clear, windowed end of the ballroom that would leave them visible to anyone inside. He withdrew his arm from her waist and turned her to face the building's wall. It was then that she noticed a large stone orb suspended on the side of the Governor's Ballroom. The stone circle, yellowed with age, was obviously hand crafted – a remarkable piece of workmanship worthy of any museum. At its center a three dimensional skull was carved that bore an uncanny resemblance to Will's medallion, currently resting in the softness of her lace demi bra. The skull's eye sockets were empty holes capable of nesting a bird or some other less appealing creatures she didn't wish to consider, as was its nasal cavity. But the most immediately striking feature was the large circle of its gaping mouth, etched open and anticipating, its large menacing teeth all present and lying in wait on both the upper and lower jaw, giving it the look of a intimidating, almost amused sneer.

"What is this?" she asked him, turning from the fascinating sculpture to her equally captivating companion.

"La Boca de la Verdad or, in English, The Mouth of Truth."

"More Aztec legend, like your Well of Wishes?"

"Something like that. Jack had this particular piece brought in from Southern Mexico, so it would certainly qualify. The story goes that many centuries ago," Will began, his eyes sparkling, delighting in the fact that he was delighting her, "a young thief was caught and jailed to await punishment for the crime. He loudly protested his innocence to anyone who would listen, but in the end no one believed him and the sentence was carried out; his hand was cut off as retribution for the crime. After that, they say he went a little mad. He lived out the rest of his life on the sea as a pirate, hook and all. But he never got over the loss of his hand or the injustice done to him. He swore on his deathbed that his spirit would return to the city of his youth and seek vengeance on those responsible. Most believed it was just the idle threats of a lunatic dying man, but then crops began to fail. Long stretches of harsh, inclement weather followed, and the townspeople built this idol hoping to appease the restless, angry spirit. It must have worked well enough because it's said that he then haunted the sculpture, dispensing justice in the small town and acting as a sort of ancient lie detector. First it began with those who were accused of a crime, like he was, and then stretched into all sorts of other things, from business transactions to extramarital affairs. Whenever a person was accused of treachery or some other such act they denied, they were called before La Boca de la Verdad, made to insert their hand in its mouth, and asked a series of questions. Legend has it, if you speak the truth the skull will leave you as good as new, but if you speak a lie the spirit will find you out and, as was done to him, will bite off your hand in retribution."

Elizabeth looked from Will to the statue and back again, her face blanketed in a pretty flush of excitement. "That's fantastic, Will. A truly marvelous surprise." She reached out and ran her hand along the features of the skull in wonder and respect.

"Jack found the idol while traveling through Mexico, just after winning the Black Pearl," Will said, watching her face as she touched the sculpture and smiling. "He was completely taken with it and thought tourists would also appreciate the novelty. By then the little city was rundown and nearly bankrupt, more than willing to sell. At my urging, he agreed to put La Boca out here. It keeps it more removed and safely tucked away while still allowing our VIP guests access."

"This is magnificent," she pronounced, gently stroking the skull's cheekbone.

"I should have brought you here before."

"This whole resort is magnificent. I love everything about it…." Elizabeth trailed off, glancing down at the dark waters beneath them. "I'll miss it," she finally said, so quietly he barely heard her. "It was a good surprise," she repeated, looking at the sculpture once more, then turning as if to walk away.

"Wait," Will said, his fingers encircling her wrist and stopping her. "Not so fast. You didn't think I'd let you get off just like that?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, still at a loss but enjoying his teasing voice and expression.

"La Boca de la Verdad. There are some questions I need answered, Miss Swann," he said, his hand sliding from her wrist to take hers. "And I'm not sure I trust you to give me the truth on your own."

Her heart picked up speed, wondering at what questions he wanted to ask her. "Is that a challenge, Mr. Turner?"

"It is."

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh of capitulation. "I never could resist a challenge."

Will grinned. "I know." She narrowed her eyes at him in mock outrage that he'd so skillfully trapped her. "But just to show you what a gentleman I am, I'll put _my_ hand in there with yours. That way he'll get us both. So answer carefully," he quipped.

"I'm not afraid," she laughed, smiling along with him as he inserted their hands, palms down, his on top of hers, into the skull's mouth.

The expression on Will's face sobered, all at once serious, as he regarded Elizabeth intently. Following his cue, she too sobered. "You're not going to start out easy are you?"

"The truth is rarely easy."

She nodded her silent agreement. If she'd learned anything on this holiday, it was that. "Alright. Go ahead." She ought to be afraid to play this game with him, to blindly agree to honestly answer any question he came up with. It wasn't that she truly believed her hand was in any danger of being severed by this ancient idol, but something far more dangerous was compelling her to finally tell the absolute unfettered truth.

He looked at her a long measuring moment, his gaze holding hers. "Are you in love with your fiancé?"

Unable – _unwillingly_ – to hide or look away, she answered with a sure, clear, "No."

His hand tightening on hers within the sculpture's mouth was his only discernable reaction to her admission, but inwardly his heart soared. He would still lose her, of that he was certain, but now at least he had a ghost of a chance of that one perfect night with her he so craved. And he would begin by making her admit to every moment between them she denied. If he had any lingering doubts at all about the fact that Elizabeth wanted him, they were dismissed in the heat of the pool the night before. Still, he wanted to hear her say it, that those other moments meant something to her too, that it wasn't just alcohol and confusion but it was _him_ – the two of them together, their desire for each other – that led to those moments in time he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

"Do you remember kissing me that first night on the beach coming home from Calypso?" he asked her.

Elizabeth had long since regretted making him believe she didn't even retain the memory of their first kiss. True enough, she hadn't wanted to get hurt. She hadn't wanted to lose his friendship. She hadn't wanted to live with the pain and embarrassment of Will knowing she had feelings for him that he didn't share. Yet, in the end, those were all just excuses. She'd been afraid, plain and simple. But Elizabeth Swann was no coward. Will had a right to know – she _wanted_ him to know – that she'd been sober, present, and completely lost in that moment with him.

"Yes. I remember. I remember every second of it. The pressure of your mouth against mine. The way you tasted. The slow burn of it spreading everywhere."

Desire flared between them and his fingers curled into hers, joining their hands together as his dark eyes caressed her. His voice no more than a husky whisper, he said, "You should have told me. You didn't need to lie. I would have – "

"Only questions, remember," she interrupted him.

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Only questions. But you do remember our kiss?"

"I remember," she repeated, getting lost in the memory again. "I remember it all…..The slide of your tongue over mine…..The feel of every part of you against me."

His fingers uncurled, stroking rhythmically between hers. "And that night in my bed," he said, his eyes intent on hers, "did you know it was me – not Norrington – that you climbed atop, that you kissed and touched and drove half out of my mind?"

Eyes unwavering, she spoke the truth. "I knew. I did it _because_ it was you."

Wordlessly, he removed her hand from the skull's mouth, placing it against his chest, all the while looking at her with such heat it was all she could not to tremble and melt and cry and scream and beg for more all at the same time.

Will's hand went to Elizabeth's chin, tipping her face up to him. His eyes drifted to her lips and hers to his. He wanted her like nothing ever before. He wanted to kiss her, and love her, and watch her fall apart in his arms. And he found, if nothing else, he was going to do the first.

Slowly, teasingly, he ran his palm along her bare shoulder up the curve of her neck. She shivered beneath his touch, her voice soft as she whispered his name in the darkness.

Her heart pounded a crazy rhythm, want churning through her as he bent his mouth to hers. She felt the sweet heaven of his lips just begin to catch hers, when suddenly they heard the nearby distinct click of a closing door, followed by the crunch of a stone or seashell underfoot.

"Someone's coming," Elizabeth gasped. For all of the brazen words she'd just spoken to Will, she still wasn't prepared to be caught in an illicit rendezvous with him mere feet outside an official state gathering. This was only supposed to be for the night, after all. Will didn't love her. She would have to go back. She was only allowing herself this one indulgence before doing the sensible thing. But had it all backfired? Would her father and her country still be put through the scandal and upheaval of her affair all for nothing, as she had originally feared?

Thinking quickly, Will grabbed her arm. "This way," he instructed, his voice low, as he pushed her toward a metal ladder that led to the secondary pier below.

Elizabeth never would have thought of it herself but blessed Will's cleverness under fire as she hurried to shimmy down the ladder, a tricky task in high heels.

The clear boardwalk they'd been walking on which stood on the same level as the grandiose Governor's Ballroom, though beautiful, was all for show. The real, functioning marina, where all of the Black Pearl's finest ships were currently docked, was actually several feet below, as was a secondary pier of the mundane, planked wood variety.

Will quickly followed down after Elizabeth and the two flattened themselves as much as they could beneath the small overhang, Will shielding her body with his, just as their unexpected visitors rounded the corner of the building above them.

"What's this?" one male voice asked.

"I don't know. Who cares about some skull anyway? We're looking for the princess," another, deeper voice argued.

"I know I seen her come out here. With that Turner too. I swear it."

"You better be right. There's a lot of money riding on getting this shot."

"Paparazzi," Will whispered. Elizabeth's eyes widened in dismay as she nodded.

"I'll bet they went this way, right down the pier and past the entrance. Probably trying to sneak back to one of their cabanas," the first man said.

"Let's go then. You keep up with the video and I'll go after the still shots."

They heard the footsteps of the men walking away, then there was nothing but the sound of the waves breaking against the piling.

Elizabeth let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "That was close."

"Yes, but if they saw us come out here together someone else is bound to have too."

"And there's plenty more where they came from," she finished for him.

They silently looked at one another in the darkness, both knowing the safest course of action would be to sneak her back inside the ballroom but neither one wanting their night to end. Elizabeth turned from Will then, her eyes scanning the pier, and he instinctively knew that, good idea or bad, she was searching for another hiding place. The sound of the patio door above clicking open and then closed again sped the decision for them.

"Come on," Will murmured, taking Elizabeth's hand and running towards the safety of the _Flying_ _Dutchman_, for the benefit of the party, currently moored only two ships down.

By a small miracle they managed to make it the _Dutchman_ undetected. Once there, they scurried for cover below deck, popping out in the ship's galley. Heart racing and out of breath, Elizabeth somehow ended up against the wall with Will pressed close to her front, a situation that did nothing to aid the recovery of normal breathing.

"It's alright," Will told her. "We're safe. No one will think to look for us here, if they're looking at all. The second time may have just been a coincidence."

Elizabeth nodded, taking her eyes off of Will – a difficult thing as he seemed to utterly surround her in the small space – to study the room. Though she'd been on the _Dutchman_ before, it was for a nice long sail where she'd been too busy enjoying the wonders of the sun and sea to more than glance below deck just the one time. Now she had the chance to really take in the lower level of the ship.

While the space was tight, as was the case with most sailing vessels – well, other than the enormous yachts and cruise ships she was accustomed to – the galley really was lovely, all dark wood and marble, fully equipped to make any sort of meal one could imagine, and once again she marveled that Will had designed and crafted this ship himself. A further cursory glance revealed that, besides the galley, this level of the ship was comprised of two additional rooms, the ship's head to her left and the lone stateroom to her right.

"The _Dutchman_ continues to amaze me, as does its captain," she tenderly imparted.

True to his nature, he underplayed the compliment, replying, "What amazes me is that we're alone at last."

Elizabeth smiled softly. "No intrusions."

"No crowds of other people begging your attention."

"No standard of behavior to live up to."

"No more games," Will added meaningfully.

Looking up into his dark-chocolate eyes, she whispered her agreement. "No more games." The full weight of all that had been confessed at La Boca de la Verdad hovered between them, as did the knowledge that they were now alone and free to do as they pleased. The sexual tension was so thick it was nearly tangible. "So…." she said, taking a deep breath, "….what do we do now?"

Unconsciously their eyes both drifted to the open stateroom and the bed clearly visible in the center of the small room. Heat snaked through her as their gazes connected once more. He was standing so close to her – so deliciously close – she could feel the heat of his body dance across her bare skin, and but one inch or two would bring their lips back together.

Elizabeth tilted further toward him and Will felt a shiver pass through him. He wanted to kiss her…..to kiss her and more. He wanted it desperately, and he could see she wanted it too. Hunger, need, and something else he couldn't name shone in her eyes, something soft and warm and vulnerable. It was the later that stopped him, that made him want to protect her, to please her, to go to the ends of the earth and beyond to make her happy.

"Now," he said, soft and low, "we go out for a sail."

"What?" She thought at first she must have heard him wrong. Of all the things she expected him to say that certainly wasn't it.

"Now we go for a sail," Will repeated. "You loved it so much the first time and we never got to go out again like I promised you we would. So let's have one last sail." Suddenly it seemed desperately important to get Elizabeth away from all this, all the things that bound her and made her miserable, all the things that kept them apart. They were alone, true, but suddenly they weren't nearly alone enough. But the dark, warm waters of the Caribbean would fix that. "Come out sailing with me, Elizabeth," he warmly coaxed. "I'll even let you steer again."

He could see that she wanted to say yes. Still, she asked, "But – but won't someone notice?"

"It's doubtful. The odds are slim anyone's actually keeping count of the number of ships out here. By the time they notice the _Dutchman_'s missing, we'll be long gone."

This _was_ her one night, Elizabeth rationalized. She ought to be able to do as she liked, and it wasn't as if sailing with Will would actually harm anyone. "I can always explain when I get back," she reasoned aloud. "One last trip around the island and all that."

"Of course."

"Alright," she smiled excitedly. "Let's do it."

Will returned her smile with a heated one of his own. Reaching up, he trailed his fingertips along her low neckline, raising goosebumps on her soft flesh and tingles everywhere he touched. "You're not exactly dressed for sailing," he murmured huskily, "but I think moonlight and the sea will agree with you." He turned his gaze from his hand's progress to capture hers, his fingers continuing to play at her bare décolletage, making her breath grow shallow and her eyes dark with passionate. "_I_ certainly like you this way."

"Shall I bring you back to La Boca de la Verdad to verify the truth of that statement?" she teased.

"No need," he replied, giving her a naughty grin. "All you have to do is step a little closer." He allowed his lower body to nestle against hers, his hips pressing hers against the wall, and there was absolutely no doubt that he liked her very much.

Her hands went to his shoulders, steadying herself, as she went up on tiptoe to whisper seductively against his ear, "Sailing, Mister Turner. We were going out sailing. Remember?"

Her hot breath in his ear made him shudder and he swallowed a groan. "Sailing," he repeated, straightening away from her. "Yeah, sailing."

* * *

Ten minutes later, the _Flying Dutchman _glided out of the harbor, unnoticed by anyone inside. Apparently whatever distraction Jack and Anna were employing was working. When they reached open waters, Elizabeth took over at the wheel, as promised, with Will standing close behind her to offer his guidance as the powerful ship sluiced through the sea.

"Another first," Elizabeth sighed into the warm breeze. "Captaining a ship."

"_I'm _still the captain," Will protested playfully.

"Then what does that make me, the first mate?"

"No," he answered, looking at her profile beneath the shimmering moonlight, the bright beams bouncing and reflecting off the water surrounding them. "You're far too pretty for that title."

"What would you call me instead?" she laughed.

Wickedly, he suggested, "How about the captain's concubine?"

"The captain being you," she translated. "…..Your own personal love slave?" Her lips curved into an alluring smile. "Interesting choice to keep aboard your ship. Very pirate-like. But then I suppose that's probably every man's fantasy."

He looked down at her with delighted eyes. "I imagine it depends on who they're enslaving. For me, that definitely would make a difference."

"A person-specific fantasy then. Somehow that makes it sound better. Still, it doesn't strike me as your style."

"True," Will agreed, stepping in closer to her. "I would want my lover to come to me freely. Willingly. Eagerly," he whispered, reaching out to finger a fallen curl near her cheek.

"Then we still have yet to decide on my title," she said softly, slowly, her voice shaking just a little as, releasing the lock of her hair, his fingers grazed her jaw, then down her neck.

"How about Just Elizabeth? That's what you said when we met."

This time Elizabeth's smile was a bittersweet one. "But that didn't last long, did it?"

"Tell me more about your firsts?" Will requested, purposefully changing the subject. They were here to enjoy what little time they had left together, not to focus on the fact that she was leaving, that by morning she'd be lost to him. Tonight, for just a little while, he wanted them both to forget. "How many were there?"

"Let's see," she answered, pausing to recall them all in her mind. "There was my first time steering a ship, as I've already said. The first time even being on a sailboat, really, if that counts – and I think it should."

"Your first arrest," he said wryly. "But that was all my fault."

"William Turner, it was not. I was the one who crashed your bike."

"I should have been paying closer attention, but you distracted me. You _always_ distract me."

Her eyes glowed at his words, and this smile was one of pure pleasure. "I don't mean to…..most of the time."

"Which means some of the time you do. I knew it." When her cheeks pinkened into a blush, he adjoined, "Well you've thoroughly succeeded. And while we're on that note," he said roguishly, "add 'first time sleeping nude' to the list."

"That part fascinates you, doesn't it?" she laughingly teased.

"Not the sleeping," he mumbled.

"We can also add my first time in a bar, or a club. So both Calypso and the Empress apply."

"Your first time getting drunk."

"My first experience with your kind of dancing."

"_My_ kind?" Will questioned. "What makes it my kind?"

"Alright, not _your_ kind," Elizabeth corrected, "but club dancing. _You_ taught me anyway…I liked it," she softly disclosed.

"I did too."

"There have been a lot of firsts, Will," she said, looking up at him. "A lot of memories I'll never forget."

His hand settled over hers on the wheel. "We're making one now."

"And the night isn't even over yet."

Sliding past him, her thigh and forearm brushing his as they switched places, Elizabeth settled against the rail, looking out at the sea. They fell into an easy silence then, nothing but the sound of the wind and the waves as the _Dutchman_ sailed on through the night.

Will was keenly aware of all that he yearned for, all that he wanted from this night – to say, to do, to live with Elizabeth. But somehow it still didn't seem right. Not here, not now, not this way. Yet he had such love for her it made him bold. It made him impulsive. And suddenly, seeing the shadow of land in the distance, for the first time in his life it all fell into place.

"Elizabeth, would you like to come to Tortuga with me?"

Elizabeth's eyes shot to his. She understood the implication of the question, of all that it entailed. Tortuga was a lovers' destination; he'd made that clear. People only went there for one reason. Yet it was the other significance of Tortuga that had her heart lodged in her throat. Will could have had sex with her right there. He could have brought her into his cabin. There was no reason to even leave the ship. But the fact that he asked her to Tortuga meant he wanted it to be special, that _she_ was special. He never took women there, not even once.

_If you ever met the right woman_, she'd once asked him, _would you take _her_ to Tortuga_? His answer had been, 'W_ith the right woman, I'd want it all – romance, love, the whole package'_.

Is that what he meant? She still didn't know how he felt about her, but she knew without a doubt that Will's invitation meant something more, that he was making at least some sort of a gesture in offering her Tortuga, the equivalent of softness and romance he'd never allowed himself – never _wanted_ – with any other woman.

Either way, regardless of his feelings, she knew that he was the one right man for her. He was everything she ever dreamed of. After all this time of abstinence she didn't take the decision lightly. She had always been discriminating and having held on to her virginity for twenty-six years made her all the more so. But she loved Will and knew this was it, _he_ was it for her. The only time, the only love she'd ever know. And he must feel something for her too, even if it wasn't love. Even if it didn't rise to the level of all that she felt for him, it was something. It wasn't meaningless to him.

She'd gotten a taste of how fantastic it could be with Will. Shouldn't she have that? Shouldn't she be able to experience that at least once? Before returning to a lifetime of loneliness, didn't she deserve to know the pleasure, the ecstasy of his touch, his caress, his kiss and all it could do?

Looking over at Will, at his dark expectant eyes so full of hope and vulnerability, her decision was made. She knew what he was inviting. She knew what she would be saying yes to. Still, she said it.

Her voice soft and breathy, Elizabeth answered, "Yes….Yes, I believe I would."


	23. Tortuga

AN: It has been so long since I last updated, I wanted to get out the next chapter as quickly as possible. As a result, it has only been edited through once. Please keep that in mind if you find minor spelling/grammatical errors. I'll be doing another run-through and making any necessary corrections as soon as a can.

**Tortuga**

* * *

You're my thrill.

You do something to me.

You send chills right through me.

How my pulse increases. I just go to pieces.

When I look at you, 'cause you're my thrill.

- J. Gorney

* * *

As he secured the _Flying Dutchman _to the small dock, Will was a bit dazed at the turn the night had taken. At the start of the evening, he certainly hadn't planned Tortuga. He hadn't even planned sex. He just wanted to be with Elizabeth, to enjoy her company, her laugh, her smiles. But things between them always had a way of amplifying quickly. By the time they'd taken refuge below deck, the affection – the attraction – between them had taken on a life of its own, and when he saw the shores of Tortuga in the distance it all seemed to come into perfect light.

To be honest, he was more than a little surprised that Elizabeth had said yes. Of all the many varied things she was, naïve was not among them. She understood what Tortuga meant. People didn't go there to enjoy a cocktail or take a long stroll on the beach. It was a lover's paradise meant for only one indulgence. There was no doubt in his mind that the underlying question in his invitation had been perceived and answered. They perfectly understood the tacit agreement still left unspoken between them. They both knew why they were here. Yet, outside of the heat of the moment, Will wondered if he could truly take her to bed this way, without commitment, with the sure understanding that she was leaving in the morning? It wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't what he'd dreamed of. But if that was the way it must be he would take whatever she offered – and it was a monumental offering at that: one perfect night with her to remember in the long cold days to come.

Will looked over at Elizabeth, smiling softly – almost shyly – to him from the _Dutchman_'s deck, and knew that despite the million words, the tender promises and heartfelt declarations, threatening to burst from his tongue, he could not taint her perfect, sweet goodbye that way. He wouldn't beg. He wouldn't burden her with feelings she could never return. Instead, he'd do as she wished. He would accept her choice, enjoy their one night together, and come the morning somehow find the strength to let her go.

From the dock, he reached a hand out to her. "Welcome to Tortuga."

She took his hand and he helped her up and over the ship's side onto the planked, spaced wood of the dock, making sure to hold her steady while she got her bearings in those killer heels of hers that had been wreaking havoc on his libido all night.

Disembarking from the small dock, they walked up the rustic trail in charged silence and quiet anticipation, until Elizabeth finally broke it.

"This isn't at all the way I pictured it," she told him as they walked hand in hand toward the beach house at the tiny island's center.

"Do I dare ask how you did picture it?"

"I don't know. Chains and leather….and maybe a sex swing somewhere."

Will laughed, watching as she took it all in.

White sand was beneath their feet and lush, green, overgrown vegetation flanked the narrow path which now widened to reveal the beach house just before them. The house itself was beautiful and large, designed in dark teak and clear glass. With its sheer draperies currently drawn, it had the inviting decadent look of cream and wood, the organic thatched roof adding a hint of the exotic, making it appear as if the house sprang naturally from the sand and the palms surrounding it.

Elizabeth turned a full circle. "This is beautiful….romantic…_tasteful_."

Will couldn't help but laugh again at the utter surprise in her voice. "I should hope so. I had a hand in designing it, remember?"

"Yes, now that you say so I do remember," she replied as he let them into the house. "That explains a lot actually. I knew this couldn't be Jack's taste. It must be yours."

"You haven't seen the best part yet."

It was mostly all a blur to Elizabeth as he led them through the house, her attention focused much more on her companion and what was to come than the surroundings themselves, but she got the vague impression of an entryway and small lounge with a hallway to the left and stairs to the right before he stopped them in the kitchen.

"This is the best part?" she questioned in playful doubt.

"No, have patience. I'm just stopping for champagne."

She nodded silently, a new sort of nervous tension setting in as the reality of what they were about to do sank in.

"Go ahead and take a seat. I'll prepare us a little snack too while I'm at it," he told her as he moved about the kitchen, indicating one of the chairs in the adjacent dining area.

She sat for about a millisecond, watching him slice strawberries and retrieve glasses from the cupboard, before restlessly standing again. She'd never gotten to this point before and really had always assumed her first time would be a little more unrehearsed, something that just happened spur-of-the-moment. Now that they were here and it was all so obvious what they meant to do, what should she say? How should she act? What should she do? Did he expect that they would just have at it? But this was her Will; surely he'd show a little more finesse than that….wouldn't he? Then again, according to everything she'd ever heard, men tended to lose all objectivity and manners where sex was concerned. Although she wanted this – wanted Will – she felt panic beginning to rise. "I think I'll go freshen up."

"You don't have to go far," he answered, pushing open a side door to reveal a small loo.

She seemed suddenly skittish to Will and he wondered what she thought he planned to do, simply grab her without even the slightest preamble? Then again, with her preconceived notions of leather and chains maybe that's exactly what she thought went on here – and, hell, maybe it did when Jack entertained. But not with him. And not with her. Though he couldn't deny he wanted to make love to Elizabeth here tonight more than he wanted his next breath, he didn't expect anything from her. They'd only be going as far as she wanted.

"Make yourself at home," Will smiled softly to her. "Take all the time you need. I'll be just outside," he said, pointing to the now closed double doors.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth had used the facilities, splashed cold water on her face, retouched her makeup, and gotten her emotions back under control. The past few days had been so difficult. It was nearly impossible not to second guess herself and all her decisions: to stay on the island or go home; to continue as a princess or renounce the throne; to come to Tortuga now with Will or say goodnight, return to her lonely cabana and never see him again.

What she wanted, what she really wanted –

But there was no point to that. What she wanted she couldn't have and there was no sense in spoiling the here and now with what could never be. She wanted to be with Will. She _loved_ him. And even though he couldn't say the same, even though their relationship had failed before it started, she knew what they had between them was special. She wanted whatever this night had in store for them, and she knew she wouldn't regret it in the morning.

Elizabeth was just slipping her lipstick back into her microscopic silver purse when she heard the sound of soft jazz music from somewhere outside. Leaving her purse on the vanity, she opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the kitchen. The doors were now opened to the outside revealing a spacious patio, covered by the extended overhang of the thatched roof but open-air on its other three sides.

Following the slow sensuous strains of Diana Krall, Elizabeth stepped outside onto the patio. In its middle was an oversized, dark wood futon-style chaise, laid completely flat, with a thick cream cushion and two appropriately tropical throw pillows at its head; a perfect spot for a poolside massage or a bit of relaxation shaded from the sun and the elements. Beyond the cover of the roof was the pool itself, underground – at least a good eight feet deep from appearances – and done in expensive looking hand-laid tiles. Around the pool were a small outdoor dining table with two chairs and two more, smaller matching wood and cream chaises set side by side; everything here, it seemed, came in twos. The whole area was palm-fringed and landscaped with pink hibiscus, purple orchids, and white bougainvillea. And just a few feet ahead of the pool's end, the wooden deck gave way to more white sand and the most breathtaking expanse of untouched beach she'd ever seen.

But what was even more stunning then the gorgeous expanse of beach ahead was the scene Will had set while waiting for her. Candles surrounded them on every hard surface, the dining table, all around the pool – which also glowed from within – on the small tables on either side of the futon, and at scattered intervals across the ground. A bowl of the sliced strawberries now rested atop the dining table, as well as two full glasses of champagne with the bottle chilling on ice should they care for more. And the music, the soft slow steady music, set a perfect mood along with the bright moon and canopy of stars overhead.

It was magic. It was perfect. It was everything that Will professed to never want, the very reason he said he never took a woman to Tortuga.

Elizabeth left the shelter of the patio to step out poolside, joining Will where he stood near the dining table, looking like heaven and sin all rolled into one, the coat of his tux now gone, the white shirt alone setting off his tan in the sensual glow of the flickering candlelight.

Wordlessly, he handed her a glass of champagne, taking the other himself and drinking from it as he gazed appreciatively over at her.

She took a sip herself, then another, savoring the sweet liquid on her tongue. Finally swallowing, she whispered, "Thank you."

"Well, I hate to drink alone."

Elizabeth smiled. He was teasing her now, but as much as she loved Will's playful side she couldn't let this slide. Not this time. Not when it meant so much.

"I meant thank you for all this," she clarified, spreading her arms about them. "But I seem to remember a conversation we had the very first time you took me sailing, when you told me all about the _Flying Dutchman_, and Tortuga. Soft candlelight, romantic music, Tortuga itself – you seemed to be against them. Isn't all this the very thing you run from?" she pointed out. "And yet here we are….with candlelight, music, and romance."

"I told you," he answered simply yet honestly, "you're my exception."

Her heart turned over at his tender reply, and his other earlier words of that same fateful day sailing echoed in her mind: '_With the right woman, I'd want it all – romance, love, the whole package_.'

Reaching out, Will silently took the champagne from her, setting it along with his own glass on the table. He walked out into the middle of the deck, between the pool and the thatched roof of the porch, where he'd purposefully left a small circle of the ground free from candles. Stretching his hand out to her, he beckoned, "Come here."

Elizabeth did as he asked, stopping a mere foot away from him, which he easily closed with one sure step. "I want this night for us. I want to dance with you here, beneath the stars. The only two people in the world." With that, he enfolded her in his arms, moving her in time to the slow, sultry music.

They danced together that way, far closer than the restraint of the Governor's Ballroom required, for what could have been minutes or hours; neither was certain. They simply moved together, cheek to cheek, with his hand holding hers against his chest. And very quickly the music, and their rhythm, and Will so close wove a sort of magic spell around them – inside of her – until Elizabeth's desire for him, her _need_ for him, took over. Without realizing it, at some point she had unconsciously wound her arms about his neck, her body melting into his. By the time her brain actively registered this new, intimate position she found she rather liked it and had no intention at all of even trying to fight the cloud of longing and lust fogging her mind. Instead, she held on to him even tighter.

"Do you know, when I first met you, I thought you were a dream," Elizabeth said, her voice a soft seductive purr that seemed to caress him everywhere, from the tip of his scalp to the soles of his feet. "An exciting, exhilarating fantasy come to life." She pulled back to look into his eyes, the deep shining chocolate brown orbs that seemed to see all the way to her soul. "Now that I've known you these weeks, I'm still not quite sure. I think you're real and then you go and do something like this, and you seem too good to possibly be true." She nestled deeper into his arms, every part of them that possibly could now touching. "Maybe you are a just figment of my imagination that will vanish like a dream…but you're here now, and I don't want to waste a single moment."

As Diana Krall continued to sing about having finally found her thrill, Will held Elizabeth in his arms, grafted to him, her fingernails playing lightly at the back of his neck. She turned her attention to his ear, tracing it with her fingertip, and he shuddered.

"I'm not quite sure if _I'm_ dreaming right now. Although it feels real." He dropped both hands to encircle her waist, holding her steady to him. "_You_ feel real," he said, his voice a low, husky whisper.

They moved together silently for several more beats, one of Will's hands at Elizabeth's waist, the other splayed wide at the base of her spine, melding her hips to his. Then she broke the silence once more. "Of all the moments we've shared together, Will, this is by far my favorite," she confessed in a breathy sigh.

His hand on the small of her back moved of its own will, pulling her lower body tightly to his. Her words, her softness against him, stirred him like nothing else ever had, and his mind was quickly reaching the point beyond conversation. "Yeah?"

She gave him a heated, amused smile, seeming to understand his predicament. "Yeah," she repeated, snuggling in closer still, pressing herself to him, the sensation delectable.

In answer, he ran his nose and mouth along the line of her neck, closing his eyes and burying his face in the crook of her neck. She murmured his name and he brought his face back up to hers, his jaw brushing softly across her cheek. And all the while he glided his hand over her spine – up and down, down and up – in a sensual, hypnotic motion as he swayed against her to the slow provocative pulse of the music.

And then it was all too much. They kept fanning the fire, only just feeling the heat, but this time Elizabeth needed to dance in the flames. She was flush against him, moving with him, and the yearning was just too intense. She felt like she would die if he didn't kiss her, touch her, and soon. Now. Yesterday.

Desperate, she drew away from his embrace. Unable to contain it any longer, she blurted, "I want you."

"What?" Will asked in a stupor. He was still wrapped up in her, mired in a haze of lust, the loss of contact slowly jumpstarting his brain.

"I want you. I do. So much," she repeated, and now he could see the fire burning in the depths of her eyes, confirming the truth of her words. "When I close my eyes at night, it's you I see. Whenever you're near, I can't help but breathe you in. I go weak in the knees and melt inside, and I can't think of anything but pressing my lips to yours."

More than just her words, her breathing was uneven, her voice shaking ever so slightly, and all at once he could tell that she barely held herself in check, a fact that ignited him like nothing else.

"I feel your eyes on me and I _like_ it," she divulged, "and I want more than just your eyes on me. I – I want to wrap my arms around you and kiss you furiously. I want…I want to rub myself against you. I want to feel your hands on my body – _everywhere_. I want – "

That was all the 'wants' she had a chance to list before Will reached out and grabbed her, his lips crushing down on hers.

For the barest fraction of a second she stood frozen in surprise, and then Elizabeth returned the kiss with equal fervor. She felt the rumble in his chest, the muffled grunt, at the instant she responded to him. His hands moved to her face, his thumbs stroking over her jaw and ear as his mouth worked hers, kissing her long and wet and deep.

Elizabeth absolutely came alive in his arms. Their mouths and bodies fused as they kissed one another senseless. She leaned further into Will, and he could still scarcely believe he wasn't dreaming. All that he'd imagined for this evening was about to transpire, a perfect night with her in his arms – his lips, his hands, on her body. He didn't expect anything more than that; he knew she was still leaving in the morning. But he wanted to feel her, touch her, reach her just once. To finally know what it felt like not just to have sex, but to make love.

As Elizabeth turned to fire in his arms, pulling him still closer against her, he knew in that moment it was all right here for the taking. She'd agreed to come to Tortuga with him knowing what that meant. Even now, she was giving him the green light for all that he'd wanted for so very long. The fantasy of that one perfect night was now virtually guaranteed….But suddenly he found it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He couldn't leave it at that. Regardless of her answer, he couldn't kiss her, hold her, love her, without her first knowing what it meant for him – that _loving_ was exactly what it would be.

Will ended the kiss, easing away and whispering her name. She opened her eyes for a single moment, then leaned back into him, touching her mouth to his once more. Again, he pulled back, repeating her name.

With a little groan of frustration, Elizabeth yanked his lips back to hers. She was returning to the prospect of a stifling life and a loveless marriage. Couldn't she truly live a little at least once? She wasn't stupid. She knew what Will did and did not feel for her, knew what he could and could not give her. But she would take it, whatever he offered.

Will returned the kiss for several beats, but then she could feel him resisting, beginning to pull away again. All she wanted was to be touched, kissed, held by him. Didn't she deserve that? One memory, one lovely night to look back on? Now it seemed as if he wouldn't give her even that.

"_Elizabeth_," he said, this time with more urgency in his tone, completely withdrawing his embrace, and she had no choice but to concede to his refusal, to stand and listen to him while he turned her down.

"You asked me once if I wanted you to stay."

That wasn't at all what she expected to hear and she regarded him in confusion.

His eyes were intense on hers, penetrating all the way through to her heart as he opened his mouth and declared, "Of course I do. I want you to stay here – _with me_. I want that more than anything in this world." He took a step closer to her, cupping her face with his hand. His tone poignantly tender, he said, "I'm asking you. I'm _begging_ you, Elizabeth. Don't leave me. Not when I love you so much."

Elizabeth was speechless for a moment, until finally, her voice small and unsure, she stammered, "You….you love me?"

"Elizabeth, _how_ I love you. You know I do."

She made a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. "I – I didn't. I didn't know."

She was so stunned, so overwhelmed at his declaration that, though it didn't seem possible, Will knew it must be so that she truly never had guessed his feelings long ago as he suspected; he'd always thought it was so obvious.

"You do now. I love you." And there was that tenderness again, that earnestness in his voice and face, proving like nothing else that what he said was true. "And you know me. You know my past. You know I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." She opened her mouth to assure him she _did_ believe him, but he rushed to continue, "I brought you here hoping for one perfect night with you to remember when you're gone. But now I can't….I can't have one night when – "

"You can have me forever."

Will looked at her, taken aback.

"You can have me forever," she repeated, her eyes watering over. "Because I love you too."

His throat thickened. His heart swelled. He could scarcely believe his ears. Her words were everything to him, an answer to a prayer he hadn't dared dream. That she would consent to his touch had been within the realm of possibility. That he might have her for a night was within the scope of his imagination, but he never thought it possible that he could actually hold her love for a lifetime.

Wordlessly, he enfolded her in his arms, hugging her to him, one arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head, making her feel delicate, cherished, _loved_.

After several moments of simply being holding by her, Will eased away to look at Elizabeth, wiping a tear from her cheek as he asked, "Why didn't you tell me? All this time….why didn't you say anything before?"

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I thought there was no way you'd pick me. Look at you; you're gorgeous and smart and funny…..You're – you're a princess, an actual _princess_, and I'm nothing. A nobody, and a seriously damaged nobody at that."

"Will, don't say that. I don't care about being a princess, and you're not nothing or a nobody. You're very much somebody to me."

His smile widened at her words. "I knew you had some sort of feeling for me – if I had to guess, friendship leaning towards lust." He saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks at his lust accusation and, grinning, he held her closer. "But I didn't know you were _in love_ with me. I never thought that. Not even once. What about you?"

"I didn't know you were in love with _me_."

"I thought you must know. You had to have at least suspected. I mean, how many times did I flirt with you? Try to kiss you? Actually kiss you?"

"Yes, but being attracted to me – even feeling more for me than you may have for any other woman – that still doesn't mean you're in love with me or that you even want a relationship with me, especially for a man who's made such a point of avoiding love. And I couldn't make that leap, I couldn't put my heart on the line, I couldn't take that chance, couldn't stay for anything less. Before," Elizabeth said, her voice breaking. "Why didn't you ask me to stay before? I gave you the perfect chance. I _wanted_ you to ask me to stay."

"And I wanted to ask you. Believe me, I did. But I couldn't put that on you," he explained. "I couldn't put that burden on you, that guilt of knowing I was crazy about you – would be lost without you – and you didn't feel the same way. It wouldn't have been fair to you."

"You're rules in reverse, hmm?" Closing her eyes, she breathed out a happy sigh. "Oh how I wish I'd known all this before."

Will gathered her nearer, squeezing her gently. "I do love you, Elizabeth. I should have told you every day."

She hugged him again, melting into the embrace he readily returned.

Running his hands over her hair, Will tenderly cradled her head to his chest. In a soft, incredulous voice, he again asked, "You _really_ thought I didn't love you?"

"I _really_ did," she laughed, looking up at him blissfully.

"Elizabeth, I love you fully, hopelessly. More than I've ever loved anything or anyone ever before. More than I even knew was possible. Forever," he vowed. "I'll love you forever."

Stepping up on her toes, she kissed him. Will's hands, cupping her face, slowly slid down her body, one coming to rest at her waist, the other supporting her neck as he fully returned the kiss. She titled her head, changing the angle, deepening the contact.

He broke away with an audible 'pop'. "Elizabeth….we….we don't have to…I don't want you to feel like because you agreed to come here you have to – "

She set her hand to his lips, cutting him off. For a long moment they just looked at each other, and he was certain that he'd never experienced anything sexier than the soft pads of her fingers against his lips here in the moonlight of Tortuga. That is, until she leaned in, replacing those fingers with her mouth, kisses him once, softly, sweetly.

"No one's ever made me do anything," Elizabeth said, pressing another kiss to his lips, this time lingering. Her open eyes full of emotion, she brushed her nose against his, whispering, "I want this."

Then there was no more holding back.

Will set his lips to each corner of her mouth, then took it fully, feeding her long, hot, knowing kisses that were growing more intense by the second. "I love you with every breath I take," he murmured between kisses. "I want to spend my life making you happy." Then, as if to underscore the promise, his mouth was on hers again, bringing more than a little happiness to her as he outlined her lower lip with his tongue. "You are my Senta. My forever," he whispered against her lips. With a low purr, she opened to him and he kissed her deeply, wildly, capturing her soft tongue with abandon.

At length, shifting his attention from her mouth, Will trailed kisses over the length of her jaw. His mouth found the spot just beneath her earlobe, where jaw and ear met, and licked her with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tasting the sensitive skin. When he raked his teeth across it, Elizabeth felt her bones liquefy.

He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and she let out a low shuddery sigh, fingers flexing at his arms as he glided his mouth from her ear down to her throat. She tipped her head back to give him better access, her body singing at the feel of his breath and lips against her skin.

Will stopped, his mouth poised over her neck. "Tell me you love me," he urged, needing to hear it once more.

"I love you," she quickly responded, eager for the return of his mouth, hating the dely.

This time it was Will who sighed, pressing his mouth back to her throat, feeling the throb of her pulse against his lips.

Using his teeth and tongue, he trailed tiny tasting bites along the length of her neck, sliding his tongue beneath the chain of her medallion to lick the skin beneath. His lips continued to work over her neck, the feel of what he was doing so exquisite Elizabeth felt she was in heaven. Then through the haze of her pleasure, even as he continued to kiss her neck, she heard him yearningly beg, "Say it again."

Her heart broke at his need for reiteration, to hear her repeat the words again and again to be sure it wasn't all a dream. She opened her eyes to look at him, her fingers at the nape of his neck titling his face back to hers. Holding his gaze, with immense conviction, she gently repeated, "I love you."

A smile of genuine joy ghosted over Will's lips, then he took her mouth again with vehemence, unleashing all the hunger he'd held inside for so long. After lingering long enough to kiss her senseless, his mouth slid back down her neck and nipped along her bare shoulder. His tongue licked a path just beneath her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, tasting her there, softly kissing the sensitive skin, then he brushed his mouth over the curve with neck and shoulder met. He kissed, then bit, then softly sucked. Her nails dug into his shoulder, her other hand gripping the front of his shirt, and he repeated the sequence, loving the little sounds of delight he drew from her.

"I love you more – " She gasped as his teeth raked over her skin. " – more than anything. I belong when I'm with you."

Elizabeth's sweet declaration brought Will's head back up to hers and he gazed at her with a mix of tenderness, heat, and affection. Passion quickly won out. Incited by the continued curl of her fingers against his chest, he cupped the back of her head. His fingers freed her hair from its up-do, the strands spilling over his hands as he brought their lips back together .

His mouth worked magic. That was the only way she could describe it. Magic, and fire, and hot, moist, bone-deep pleasure. His tongue slid across hers, teasing the roof of her mouth, exploring, consuming, arousing. And suddenly it was too much and not nearly enough. Her hands groped along his back, down his sides, and around to wander over his muscled chest.

"I love you," Elizabeth declared between panting breaths when the need for air demanded they end the kiss. "Only you. _Always_ you." Then she lunged for his lips once more, her hands moving over him, unable to stop touching him.

His shirt soon became an impediment and she yanked it from the waistband of his pants. Never breaking the kiss, she pulled at his tie, finally managing to loosen it. She hurriedly unfastened the tiny buttons at his collar and wrists, taking her reward as her tongue twined with his. Then, in a flurry of movement, she began unbuttoning the front of his shirt, needing it off of him as soon as possible. Will tried not to lose his mind as her fingers grazed his chest, channeling that raw yearning into their kiss, but his breath hitched whenever she touched him.

Her task now complete, Elizabeth broke her mouth from his and gazed down at what she'd bared. Slipping her hands beneath the open ends of his shirt, she pushed it off his shoulders and down to the ground. His tanned skin gleamed in the moonlight and she could no longer resist touching it. She smoothed her palms over him, watching his face first as she touched him, then her hands' progress. She slid her hands over his chest, spreading up to his shoulders, then returning to his pecs, brushing an open palm over each nipple, loving the feel of his hard, sleek, hot flesh. She took her hands on a journey down, watching the muscles leap beneath her fingers as she ran the tips of them across his stomach. Then she took them down further still, rubbing small circles low on his abdomen.

Will sucked in a breath, hissing a barely audible, "Damn." A pleasured smiled stretched across her lips and she continued her exploration, tracing the light dusting of hair from his naval to where it disappeared into his pants. He made a strangled sound than seized the back of her neck, bringing their lips back together in a desperate kiss, using one hand to press her mouth to his, the other to keep her body anchored to him.

He groaned into her mouth, and Elizabeth knew the feeling. His hot, urgent kisses were setting her on fire. Will angled his mouth to further deepen the kiss, seducing her with long, drugging sweeps of his tongue, and a moment later she answered with a soft moan of her own, caressing the bare skin of his chest as she slowly came apart in his arms.

Soon it got to be too much for Will, the wonderful torture of Elizabeth's fingers skimming over his skin, and he spun her around, pressing her back against his chest and burying his face in her hair, breathing her in. "I've wanted you. Elizabeth, how I've wanted you. You've tormented me." She heard his strained whisper and his voice sounded tormented – tormented and hotly charged and wonderfully, dangerously aroused.

He moved her hair back over her shoulder, the heat of his breath against her neck making her knees weaken as he murmured against her skin, "No other woman ever made me feel the way you do, the way I want you, the way I can't keep my hand off you."

Then his lips were seducing with more than just words, setting delicate kisses to her neck that were all the more devastating because of their soft brevity. She tipped her head to expose more skin to him, and answered with a seductive, shockingly breathy confession of her own. "I've wanted you since the morning I first woke up in your bed. And more every day."

She brought her hand up to cup his nape, urging him on. He grabbed her hand instead, bringing it to his lips to kiss her palm, then her forearm, then the inside of her elbow before returning to her neck, pressing his mouth to the vulnerable skin, opening his lips and raking his teeth over her neck.

Will's hands slid over her sides, up and down her body, taking full advantage of the slit in her dress. His fingers trailed from her thighs up to her hips, his thumbs tracing her hipbone, gliding across her waist and up her ribs, and it was just like it had been in the pool last night, only better, because now she knew he loved her – and tonight there would be no running away.

All the while he touched her, his mouth skimmed over her neck the same way – teasing, tempting, nibbling – until her head completely tipped back onto his shoulder. Seeing the opening, his mouth alighted on her throat, his tongue flicking out briefly before he drew away. He shifted his lips to her ear and through her lust and his labored breaths she heard him speak something of "love and desire out of control" before he set her far enough away from him to see the zipper of her gown.

After weeks of intense foreplay, Will was more than ready for this moment but he'd learned one thing very young. When he was a boy, on one of the rare occasions he was treated to a sweet confection or a delicious chocolate morsel, though he was starving for the delectable candy, he never allowed himself to devour it all at once, instead portioning it out gradually, unhurriedly, relishing each lick, every last bite. Patience has its virtues he knew, and with shaking hands, bit by bit, each tooth of the zipper gently releasing, he unfastened Elizabeth from her gown. Then his hands were at her back, slowly – so tantalizingly slowly – pushing the dress over her skin, watching as it slid down her mile-long legs to pool at her feet.

Stepping out of the gown, and her heels while she was at it, she nudged all three aside and turned to face Will. The sight of the real Elizabeth, nearly nude in the moonlight, was better than any of his fantasies ever could have been. She was nothing but soft curves, smooth skin, and black lace, with only the tiniest bits of fabric covering her modesty: what he knew to be a high-cut bikini panty and a strapless sort of half-bra designed to shove a woman's assets up to new heights, spilling them over the cups and out above the lace in a manner than simply shouted 'have a taste'.

He couldn't help but just look at her for a beat, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. His gaze ran all over her body, up and down and back again, absorbing every last bit of wondrously exposed skin. He finally managed a desperate, husky, one-word response. "Gorgeous."

In the next split second, as if the dam of his self-control had given way, he lunged for her. His teeth nibbled her lower lip, once, twice. Then it was too much, and he was all over her, driving his tongue into her mouth, taking her in a hot, wet, frenzied kiss she eagerly returned, matching him stroke for stroke. His hands dipped to cup, then squeeze, her nearly bare behind. He heard her soft intake of breath and then she pressed closer, kissing him greedily.

The next thing Elizabeth knew she was off her feet and held snugly in Will's arms as he rained kiss over her face, brushing his lips across her temple, both cheeks, her jaw, each closed eye, the tip of her nose, and finally back to her mouth, treating her to a slow, deep kiss that made her lose all thought as to where he was taking her.

He carried her back across the deck, stepping under the cover of the roof to gently deposit her on the chaise beneath. Emotions surged as he looked into her eyes: tenderness, passion, possession, love. Then he withdrew his arms from around her and stepped back to look down at her, his eyes drifting over her nearly bare body, memorizing the way she looked in this moment. She absolutely took Will's breath away, her hair fanned over the pillow, the flickering candlelight playing across her skin.

Elizabeth's body heated beneath his steady, intense, erotic perusal. Had she been in a different frame of mind she may have felt a twinge of modesty, even embarrassment, laid so bare before him – out in the open of all places. But after his declaration of love and their passionate kisses afterwards, she was enveloped in a heady haze of lust, too far gone to care.

Will continued to gaze down at her reverently, his eyes taking in every inch of her, marveling at not only her physical perfection but the way she looked – hot, disheveled, glowing with passion for _him_.

"You're beautiful…so beautiful," he said at last, his accent thick and rich in his desire for her.

Her stood there looking at her a moment longer and the anticipation got the better of Elizabeth. "Touch me, Will," she softly requested.

His eyes fell closed at the supplication, as if it were too much, too good. "I've dreamt of hearing you say that."

His eyes slowly reopened as he sat down on the mattress beside her, reaching out to honor her request. With infinite tenderness, he placed his hands on her stomach then gradually spread them up her body, caressing her slowly. She audibly gasped and he bent to stifle the sound with a kiss. His tongue slid inside her mouth to lick and caress as his fingers traced the arc of her ribs. His hands then skimmed over her up to her neck, stopping at the chain of his medallion. He unhooked the clasp and began to remove it, but she murmured a protest, her hands coming over his to stop him.

"I belong to you," she told him. "This was yours and now I am, too. That's why I wore it tonight."

He smiled lovingly, kissing each finger that rested over his. "I'm glad, so very glad. But tonight I want nothing between my lips and your skin."

This time she allowed him to remove the medallion. As if to reiterate the point, he pressed a soft kiss to her neck where the chain once sat, carefully depositing it on the table beside them. Then, his dark fathomless eyes never leaving hers, he slowly covered her body with his own. Lying against her this way was sheer heaven, and the many parts of him hungry for the feel of her leapt to attention, overjoyed. They fit together perfectly, like they were made for one another, for this.

He meant to be soft and calm and moderate, starting out slow and working up to a raging passion they would both be desperate to sate, but gentle and measured would only last so long for two people that had yearned for each other so much and waited so long, when desire already raged with one simple touch. And the way Elizabeth was looking at him said she felt the exact same way.

In one swift movement, Will pinned her wrists above her head, his free hand coasting over her body as he claimed her mouth with a hot passion. He drank in the flavor that was hers alone, his tongue sweeping her mouth – arousing, possessing – and she urged him on, drawing his tongue in deeper.

Will loved kissing her. Though it had never been so with other woman, he could do nothing but simply kiss Elizabeth for hours on end. Her lips were soft and warm and full, and he couldn't get enough of them. He took the bottom one between his teeth and tugged gently and she moaned against his mouth, pressing up against him. He released her wrists then, wanting to touch her with both hands, and her arms immediately snaked about him, clutching at his shoulder, his lower back. She hooked one leg around his, using it to draw him closer, then that too wasn't enough.

Curling her leg tight around him, she pushed against him, flipping them over so she was now on top. Taking control, she kissed him hungrily – again, and again, and again – like she'd wanted to do for weeks now but always held herself back. At length, appeasing the hunger enough to move on from his lips, Elizabeth drew her mouth from Will's. Propping up on her elbow, she gave him a lust-filled smile as her fingers danced over his chest. She brushed kisses along his jaw, pausing to nip at his ear, and all the while her hands were busy unfastening his pants. Her fingers on his zipper were almost too much for him, then she was removing his pants, peeling them down his legs, taking shoes, socks – everything in their path – leaving him in nothing but black boxer briefs.

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to take in what she'd bared. Her eyes slowly raked over him, looking her fill, than she smiled wickedly down at him again. She ran her palms up his taut, muscled thighs – another thing she'd always wanted to do – and he couldn't help the low hum of pleasure.

With catlike grace, she climbed back up Will's body, lowering herself down against him. Touching her mouth to his, she dove into the kiss. Just as he was really getting into it, his tongue taking control, she broke away to kiss beneath his jaw, her tongue darting out to lick a path up his neck. She lingered at his throat and his breath shuddered out, his hands gripping her hips as he moved her mouth over his shoulders, giving each one the same treatment. She scooted further down and her breath blew warm against his chest. His blood surged, pounded in his ears. The sensation was nearly enough to curl his toes. When she set a string of hot, wet kisses across his upper chest, they actually did curl.

Elizabeth continued to kiss her way down his body, raw hunger overtaking her as she slid her lips over hard angled planes, sinewy muscle – a veritable feast of warm, smooth, sleek, tanned skin.

By the time she reached past his pecks, Will was shaking. He was turned on to the point of madness. Her lips were on his skin, her hair brushing over him; it was a sensory overload. His breathing was rough and uneven. He was completely lost in her heat. She kissed along his rib cage and his stomach muscles tightened, air hitching in his throat. When she pressed her open mouth against his abdomen he nearly leapt out of his skin, hissing out a breath as pleasure reverberated through him.

Her mouth followed his washboard abs, her lips brushing over the ridges. She took to tracing them with her tongue and he made a low raw sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. When her mouth reached the top of his boxer briefs, he whispered her name in a husky tone of pure longing. Reaching down, he pulled her back up to him, plunging her mouth down on his in a voracious kiss. Once she was moaning into the kiss, pressing closer, trying to melt into him, Will pulled away. Between ragged breaths, he whispered, "Let me love _you_."

In one fluid movement, he flipped them back over. If she thought it felt good before, she had no idea. Now that she was even more worked up, more turned on, more on fire for him, the weight and length of him on top of her, pressing against every part of her, was indescribable. The sheer physical pleasure was enough to make her whimper and stretch beneath him, offering her body up to all the enjoyment he could bring her.

Will slipped his arms under her body, puller her against him. Their kisses grew increasing desperate, increasing frenzied, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands explored her body. But he knew he had to slow things down. He planned on savoring her, tasting every inch of the sweet skin laid out before him – starting now.

His hand moved up her thigh, punctuated by a swirl of his tongue. She made a faint, mewling sound of pleasure, then his mouth moved from hers to sweep over her jaw, then just below her ear, finally following the curve of that precious little ear with his tongue. When that received a favorable response, he took the entire lobe into his mouth, scraping his teeth across it, suckling it slowly. The damp heat of his mouth along with the rough skin of his hands gliding over her body was a lethal combination. She made a soft sound deep in her throat and angled her neck to give him better access, but then he was gone – his hands, his mouth, his body completely removed from her.

Elizabeth's eyes shot open and she found Will crouching near the edge of the cushion, his hands at her waist, his attention riveted on her lower half, on the little scrap of black silk that was her panties. She heated and squirmed beneath his gaze. His eyes traveled down further, landing on the black lace lining of her thigh-high stockings. Bending over her, now level with her shins, Will eased her legs apart, settling himself between them. His fingers brushing across her upper thighs as he released the garters set Elizabeth atremble. If that slight touch garnered such a reaction, she would surely combust and melt into nothing before the night was through. And he seemed to know it, sliding the silk down each leg with sure deliberate attention, driving her insane with wanting as he slowly traced the pads of his fingers over her now bare legs.

As much as Elizabeth enjoyed his attentions to her, Will equally delighted. Hot curls of desire scorched through him with every pass of his hands over her velvet smooth legs. "You have the softest skin," he breathed, his voice low and sexy.

His hand traveled the length of her inner thigh, caressing, kneading, and rubbing, enjoying the uninhibited response he incited. It was like brushing a flame to a candle. One touch and she was on fire – and he loved being her kindling. He slid further down to the foot of the cushion, bending to touch his mouth to her skin. He pressed his lips to her ankle, her shin, behind her knee, slowly kissing his way back up her body. When he found the little mole high on the inside of her thigh, he kissed that too, his tongue flicking out to trace it. She made a sharp intake of breath and he looked up at her and smiled. She was trembling, in utter ecstasy, and the best parts hadn't even come yet. He was going to make love to her long and slow and sweet, drown her in pleasure until she came out the other side tremulous and sated, positively replete. He pressed one more kiss to her outer hip, then pulled himself back up, pressing his body back down over hers, this time with the increased intimacy their new position afforded.

Will ground his mouth on Elizabeth's, and they lost themselves in an urgent kiss. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth and it was hard to tell which one of them liked that the most, all she knew was that the long slick pull of his hot moist mouth was one of the best feelings she'd ever known. He relinquished her lip and his tongue plunged inside her mouth then retreated. He repeated the motion, teasing her, making her think of other parts mimicking the same rhythm. Her thighs pressed into his hips at the image that evoked, wrenching a rough groan from him.

He set his mouth to her throat, his tongue licked her racing pulse. His lips moved down the column of her throat, kissing and biting softly. She made an inarticulate sound of pleasure as he set damp, warm, openmouthed kisses to her neck. The sound only spurred him on, further increasing his focus and intensity as he tongued the hollow where her shoulder and neck met, his mouth sucking at the juncture. She shivered in delight. In response, he opened his mouth on her neck and drew the tender skin against his teeth, deliberately marking her as she had him that night of drunken dancing at the Empress. She let out an appreciative gasp, her legs again tightening around him.

Will lifted his head to look down at Elizabeth. Her eyes were hooded, her mouth agape, her face the very picture of raging desire – and he wanted to quench it, satisfy it until she was boneless and satiated beyond anything she'd ever experienced before. After one soft fleeting touch of his lips to hers, he drug his mouth back down her throat, loving the little cries she made.

She could feel his heat beneath her fingertips, burning her, seeping inside of her, as she ran them ran up and down his torso. And she knew what he was doing. He didn't want this to be quick. Instead, he was going to draw out the pleasure, let her bask in the exquisite torture of his mouth moving over her cleavage with slow deliberate thoroughness. But she felt….she couldn't even describe how she felt – anxious, needy, and ready to explode were the closest her fogged mind could come up with as he ran hot little biting kisses across her chest.

"Will, I….."

He raked his teeth over the swell of her breast, taking it into his mouth and she arched off the mattress. "Ohhh, that feels so good."

She was the very essence of pure, raw, passionate surrender, making hungry, ready sounds in the back of her throat as he suckled her. "You taste…" He broke off, running his tongue along the edge of her lace bra. "Mmm….." He went back in for another sample. "…..delicious."

"Again," Elizabeth requested, her voice reduced to a breathy sigh.

Will opened his mouth against her skin, sucking in earnest, knowing he was going to leave marks all over her come the morning but not caring at all as she clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, and moaned, "More".

He dipped his tongue between her breasts. Heat and pleasure flooded her, but she found it was only the beginning as his lips descended down her diaphragm. He took his mouth over each rib and slowly down her stomach to her midriff – kissing, nibbling, tormenting, lighting a blaze that spread through to her core. His whiskers dragging across her skin heightened the delicious ache, and as he circled her bellybutton with his tongue she was quivering. When he finally dipped the tip of that tongue into her navel, she let out a low throaty sound, her fingers fisting into his hair, holding his mouth to her skin.

He felt her quivering as he kissed lower, his lips nibbling around each hipbone. He set his open mouth to the soft, silken skin of her lower abdomen and she actually cried out, the high, frantic, erotic sound nearly enough to make him lose it. He licked across the sensitized flesh and she felt an explosion of heat, spreading liquid fire everywhere, her senses spinning out of control. Then his tongue traced the edge of her panties, making her writhe and curve her body to his mouth, and she thought she'd go insane with need.

"Will….please…."

He lifted his mouth from her skin. "I'll please you. I'm just getting starting pleasing you."

There was something so heady and primal about the way she shivered, gasped, and urged him on – hungry for him, desperate for him. He brought his mouth back up to hers, his tongue sliding, melding, mating with hers until her legs wrapped completely around his waist, locking him in place.

Will brushed his lips over her jaw to her ear. He couldn't resist biting down on the lobe, and a soft sound escaped her. In a deep, guttural voice, he whispered against her ear, "I want to make love to you." His hand nudged between them at her waist, his pinkie slipping beneath the edge of her panties. He pulled back, watching her eyes slowly focus, waiting for a coherent answer.

"I want you, Will," she whimpered, curling both her hands into his hair and dragging his mouth back down to her neck.

Obliging, he kissed her there, but he still had to make sure. He wanted this to be a conscious decision on her part with no regrets afterwards. "This is what you want?" he asked, reaching down and unfastening the front latch of her bra.

"Yes…." Elizabeth sighed.

He peeled the bra away, discarding in onto the patio with the rest of their clothes. She was lost in what they were doing – the kissing, the touching – but Will wanted there to be no mistaking exactly how far this was going. "To make love?" He bit her neck, pressing his hips into hers to emphasize the point….or so he told himself.

"_Yes_…" she cried, pressing closer. All at once, she knew why she'd waited – for this, this man, this connection, this pleasure like she'd never known.

"Then_, oh,_ I'm going to love you," he said, wrapping his arms beneath her and pulling her up against him. "Every inch of you. I'm going to love you till you beg me never to stop."

And that's exactly what he did, until it was just the two of them falling, plunging, and then, finally, soaring.


End file.
